


Tessellation

by Nyerus (dragonmist310)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ensemble Cast, Fluff, Introspection, Like it's just literally everyone eventually, M/M, POV Victor, POV Victor Nikiforov, Retelling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8945155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmist310/pseuds/Nyerus
Summary: It started at the banquet--the day Victor's life dramatically changed course. And from there, it was all uphill.A Victor-POV project that follows the show episodically, for the most part. In other words: the show from Victor's point of view.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been planning a Victor POV series fic for a long time but damn am I glad that I waited until episode 10 aired because it changes everything (and also made my jokes about stripper!Yuuri canon!?!?!). Also I’ve been waiting until the finale to post this in case we get more backstory, but now that a 2nd season has been all but confirmed, I decided to just go ahead and get started! If we get more backstory or something, I might change things around haha, but who knows how long we’ll have to wait until season two!!! 
> 
> Please enjoy! :)

**_Sochi, Russia – December: After the Grand Prix Finals + Banquet_ **

The white bathroom tiles were cold against Victor Nikiforov’s bare feet. He’d managed to find his way back to his hotel room a few minutes ago and had hobbled out of his shoes and socks with less grace than what was probably expected of someone like him. He looked at his reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh. He was a mess—a complete mess. His hair was more than just disheveled, with locks sticking up every which way. The expensive shirt that had once been neatly pressed was now rumpled and untucked, the jacket over it sporting a questionable stain in addition to all its unattractive creases. His pants had somehow survived without too many casualties. At some point he’d haphazardly pushed up his sleeves, losing his cufflinks in the process. He’d come to terms with the fact that he’d probably never see them again, but at least he still had his tie, which now hung loosely from his neck. The fact that he had it at all felt like an accomplishment.

He sauntered out of the bathroom and plopped down unceremoniously onto the bed, wiggling into a slightly more comfortable position after a minute. He couldn’t get the events of this night out of his head. The last few hours had been the best of his life and in hindsight it just seemed so simple. To an outsider, it might not have been more than a scandalously amusing turn of events, but to Victor it was just _so much more_.

Staring at the ceiling with a stupid grin on his face, he kept playing back the last few hours in his mind. It had started out like those banquets always did.

 

* * *

 

He’d gotten ready lazily, mentally preparing himself for the polite smalltalk he’d have to engage in for the next few hours. He didn’t mind that much really. He was long used to it and he was good at it, too. It was better than sitting alone in his hotel room, at any rate. Then he’d attended the party with Yakov, Yuri, and Mila. The latter two argued amongst themselves over something while Yakov had looked like he wanted to be anywhere but there, but then again the old coach always looked like that so it was difficult to tell what he was really thinking.

Victor had quickly been pulled into a conversation the moment he stepped through the doors.

_“Congratulations on gold—again! I’m sure you’ll dominate at Worlds!”_

_“Oh, thank you.”_

_“Of course, no one expected anything less!”_

_“I hope you enjoyed the routine.”_

_“How could we not—it was flawless!”_

He personally disagreed—there was something about his routine that felt off, something that was unsatisfying. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Yakov had seen Victor’s displeasure as well, but had insisted that perhaps being a perfectionist this time around was pointless because it didn’t matter in the eyes of the audiences or the judges.

As he cycled from group to group, the conversation was more-or-less the same with few variances.

_“You look as handsome as always!”_

_“Thank you. You look beautiful in that gown as well—the color looks wonderful on you.”_

_“How charming! Are you enjoying the party?”_

_“Yes, I am. I hope you are as well?”_

_“Certainly, since you’re here!”_

Eventually Victor had met back up with Yuri and Yakov, who were talking about the practice schedule for the next few weeks before Nationals came up. Victor didn’t interrupt, instead taking a moment to look around the room. Chris was off in a corner, no doubt hard at work charming the two ladies and the man in front of him. Of all the competitors, he’d known Chris the longest and knew him well enough to consider the man his friend. To the other side of the room he spied Michele Crispino with his arm protectively around his twin sister’s shoulder, trying to scare off the guy who was talking to her. Mila had worked her way over, however, and Sara pulled away from Michele to talk to her instead. Cao Bin was at the buffet table with a plate in hand and J.J.— _that was his name, right?_ —was nearby, whispering something into the ear of a pretty girl, who was most likely his girlfriend judging by the way she giggled.

Victor later saw a forlorn-looking young man near the side of the room. Another man—most likely his coach—had been saying something animatedly, probably in attempt to cheer the young man up. But he hadn’t been paying any attention at all to his coach, it seemed. Victor recognized the man from the previous day, from the rink. In a moment of tactlessness, he’d mistaken him for a fan, not realizing until later that he was a competitor. Yuuri Katsuki was his name, he’d found out, and learned that he’d placed last in the competition. What a shame—no wonder he looked so down.

The thought of apologizing for his little blunder crossed Victor’s mind, but he was pulled away by Yakov to meet some people who were apparently representatives of one of his sponsors. Alas, other social obligations kept him busy and by the time Victor freed himself, he found that the atmosphere of the party had changed.

He found out later that after Yuuri Katsuki’s coach left him alone (to attend to some other unspecified matters), he’d wandered his way to the drinks table and downed an impressive sixteen glasses of champagne. Sixteen! But that wasn’t to be the end of it. No, there had been far more alcohol involved during the course of that party. It all meant that Yuuri’s inhibitions had been lowered enough to start _dancing_. Other people had been dancing, of course, but those had been the unobtrusive, civil type of dances everyone always did at swanky gatherings like this. But through whatever series of events that had taken place while Victor was busy, suddenly breakdancing had been involved.

The music over the speakers had changed—the DJ for the night apparently had begun taking requests. The structure of the party had shifted. Pre-formed groups of people began to dissolve into larger cohesions, voices began to talk louder than what would normally be deemed socially acceptable, and eventually there was cheering from around the dancefloor. Victor made his way over and almost doubled over from laughter and shock combined. Yuri, of all people, was in the middle of a heated breakdancing battle with the other, far less sober Yuuri. Victor had _no idea_ how it happened, but at that point in time, he didn’t care. Fishing out his phone from his pocket, he had—like many others—started taking as many photos as he could of the spectacle.

Both skaters seemed dead serious about their duel and Victor had been impressed that someone as drunk as Yuuri could dance _that well_. The man had no sense of hesitation in any of his movements—he just flowed across the dance floor, doing stunts that surely could not have been safe for someone that inebriated. Yuri, for his part, kept up quite heroically.

A few people tried to talk to Victor after this whole debacle started—probably to ask him what his young rink mate was doing breakdancing with a random Japanese man—but he couldn’t be bothered to answer them at all. It was impossible to look away; he had to capture this!

Time passed, songs played, and the cheering got louder until the drunken Yuuri claimed victory with a series of impressive handstands that Yuri was too sane to attempt. Yuri called it quits after that and Victor assumed for a moment that it was over—that the party would eventually settle back down. But he had been oh so wrong. Oh so _very_ wrong.

In hindsight, Victor could safely admit that he hadn’t been that surprised when Chris mounted the pole in a cordoned back section of the room. He had been, in fact, more surprised that there was a pole at all in this fancy banquet hall, but it wasn’t hard to imagine that this place was multifunctional. What _had_ surprised him—what had him completely and utterly floored, rather—was that the adorable Yuuri, sans pants and shoes, decided to join Chris on said pole. It was another challenge, from what Victor came to understand. He’d been standing to the other side of the room, innocently chatting with some people when movement caught his eye and his jaw _dropped_ when he turned his attention to the show.

Victor found, for the second time that night, that it was impossible to look away. And it wasn’t because Chris began to strip after a while… though maybe it _was_ because Yuuri decided to do the same. The two of them twirled around the pole in an erotic dance to lots of hoots and shouts of encouragement from the crowd around them—Victor included. A quick glance around revealed that this uptight party had loosened up incredibly, with people more relaxed, more like their real selves. Many women had let their hair down and tossed their heels to the side to be able to dance better. Many men had similarly abandoned their jackets and loosened their ties.

Eventually, Chris must’ve decided that he, too, had lost against this whirlwind of a boy Yuuri—who had completely stolen the show once again. Now nearly naked (though less so than Chris had been!), he twirled around that pole with such elegance, his movements as shockingly graceful as they were sensual. And Victor had been glad that he hadn’t discarded his own jacket somewhere when Yuuri made eye contact with him—a playful smirk on his lips and beads of expensive champagne clinging to his skin from the bottle he and Chris had popped open during their dance—because he needed it then to help maintain his dignity for the time being. He’d felt the blood in his veins heat up, setting him alight from the inside, and his mouth went completely dry as he watched a single bead of champagne trail down Yuuri’s toned abdomen. He didn’t _want_ to look away. Not now, not ever.

Things began to lull  after Yuuri abandoned the pole, but the energy had been so _different_ in there than it had been in the beginning. And that energy had been a product of Yuuri himself. Victor then lost track of him again—just for a few minutes. It was, surprisingly, Yuuri who found him next. One minute Victor was standing there next to an unkempt Yuri and a still-shirtless Chris, and then the next minute he was being tightly embraced by Yuuri. The boy had come out of nowhere, his pants still missing and his tie wrapped around his head. It was indescribably adorable—and so was _that face_. Big, brown eyes looked up at Victor from behind a set of heavy glasses (how they hadn’t gotten lost somewhere, Victor didn’t know). It was surprising how easily the boy could go from sexy to sweet, and everything in between.

Yuuri said a slurred sentence that had been more-or-less him inviting Victor to his family’s hot springs from what Victor could grasp. While doing so, Yuuri had decided to grind his hips against Victor and it had sent the older man’s mind _reeling_. Victor forced himself to keep it together while Yuuri threw his arms around his neck and asked, eyes sparkling like crystals, _“Be my coach, Victor!”_

Victor had felt his heart stop, then felt it beat so loud he could hardly hear anything at all. He didn’t know this person—this radiant bundle of pure energy—but he knew in that moment something inside of him shifted because of this boy. Though Yuuri had been too drunk to keep a hold on a single language—switching between Japanese and English arbitrarily every now and then—Victor had come to understand that he’d been challenged, like Yuri and Chris before him, to a dance battle.

 _Very well_ , he’d thought, loosening his tie a little more. But Yuuri hadn’t waited for him, instead opting to just go ahead and start without Victor (after finding his pants, apparently), springing effortlessly into something that resembled a tango or flamenco from what Victor could recognize. It was like he didn’t even need music to carry him—he carried himself regardless, and then later the DJ seemed to take notice and played a song to match the dance. Yuuri adjusted his moves to match in turn and Victor followed along, first at a distance, and then the two came in closer together. Before he knew it, they were hand-in-hand and Yuuri had naturally taken the lead. Victor had let himself be led, wanting to see just where Yuuri would take that escalating dance of theirs, to see just how high he could get the both of them with nothing but his infectious enthusiasm.

There were very few words exchanged between the two of them, but it felt like they didn’t need any. Somehow, they had been able to do their own thing together, with the rest of the party falling away behind them. Between the gleeful laughing there had been heated gazes so intense that made him feel dizzy, made him feel so _alive_. A dance-off had turned into a dance for two, private and intimate with no room for anyone else. One move transitioned seamlessly into another and Victor knew, just knew, that this boy was just as beautiful on the ice—or maybe even more so—than he had been in that moment when their faces had come precariously close to one another’s. Victor would forever remember the ghostly feeling of warm breath against his cheek as he drank in the intoxicating scent of alcohol, sweat, cologne, and bliss.

It was over much too soon, Victor remembered thinking, holding onto this hilariously drunk man and not wanting to let him go. Victor had been surprised that he ever _did_ let go, honestly, but it felt like the moment he did, Yuuri weightlessly flew off somewhere like a butterfly right through Victor’s fingers.

Victor had patted down his pockets, searching for his phone, panicking when he realized he’d lost it somewhere. He did a round through the entire hall, eventually finding it safe with Mila who’d found it near the pole, of all places. When he went back to find Yuuri, to exchange numbers, exchange _something_ , _anything_ … he’d found nothing.

A feeling more horrible than mere disappointment had welled up inside him, his heart thoroughly sunk as through someone had shot it straight through with a missile.

He must’ve looked like a fool standing in the middle of the hall and looking around aimlessly. Eventually, Chris had taken pity on him, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a shrug and a look that said _“Sorry, buddy.”_

“Where did he go?” Victor had asked, as though he was running out of time he didn’t know he’d been borrowing.

“His coach came back and found him. Whisked him away to safety,” Chris said apologetically, then laughed, “before one of us could pounce.”

Victor had shot him a look, but it only garnered another chuckle. “I saw the look in your eyes back there, Victor—I’ve _never_ seen that look before. It was like you found something.”

“But now he’s gone,” Victor had lamented as Chris patted him gently on the shoulder in consolation.

“You’ll probably see him again.”

“God, I hope so.”

 

* * *

 

Like Cinderella after the ball, Yuuri Katsuki had vanished before the clock struck twelve and whatever magic that had been cast could come undone. But he hadn’t left behind so much as a glass slipper for Victor to find him by. Victor had to admit himself to be completely enchanted. It was almost pathetic, he thought, that he could fall so hard for someone he just barely met, but now all those fairy tales certainly made sense to him. Maybe that’s all it took. Just one night, one fantastic, unforgettable night, to make you realize everything you had been missing your _entire life_. That’s what it felt like to Victor—who still couldn’t quite catch his breath even after hours had passed by now.

It was impossible to describe what he was feeling. He wanted to shout and laugh and dance some more because of the wonderful warmth in his chest, though he knew realistically he was too tired to do much of anything except lay there and giggle to himself. He only had a few drinks throughout the whole party and had never gotten more than comfortably buzzed, but he felt like he was drunk—and maybe he was, as cheesy as it sounded, on this new _love_ , this infatuation. He’d never felt more free, more alive than he had in those last few hours.

It was a miracle he’d fallen asleep at all, quite honestly, when he’d felt so oddly energetic. But he must’ve been more tired than he realized because the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the alarm on his phone playing a familiar, annoying tune. He hadn’t even changed out of his suit, nor had he bothered to get under the covers of the bed—he’d just fallen asleep like that. He felt like he needed to apologize in advance to his dry cleaner who would probably curse him for messing up such an expensive suit, but ah, in hindsight, everything was worth it. Even the dull ache in his limbs was worth it.

And at least he wasn’t hungover—the flight he had to catch in a few hours would have been unbearable if he had to contend with that. But his lovely prince from last night would probably not be so lucky today morning, having to nurse a nasty headache at the very least. If only there was a way for Victor to comfort him other than by sending him soothing thoughts.

Grabbing his phone, he decided to text Chris—whose flight hopefully hadn’t departed yet.

 

[Victor Nikiforov]: What do you know about Yuuri Katsuki???

He knew as soon as he pressed send that he probably seemed desperate, but he couldn’t bring himself to really care. While he waited for a reply, he decided to get ready. Yakov would call him soon enough to inquire about his whereabouts and Victor sadly thought that he wouldn’t be able to give Yakov a more interesting answer than “in my hotel room, alone.”

A quick shower later, Victor checked his phone with his toothbrush in his mouth. Chris had replied.

 

[Christophe Giacometti]: Oh my god.

[Christophe Giacometti]: Never thought I’d see you pining—that’s not like you, hahaha.

[Christophe Giacometti]: But I’ll take pity.

[Christophe Giacometti]: I don’t know much about him, sadly. It was his first time in the GPF but he didn’t do so well. According to rumors I heard around the locker room, he might’ve gotten some bad news right before his skate. Poor thing.

 

Poor thing, indeed. Victor knew how fragile skaters’ hearts could be. All it took was one small thing, one bad day to bring someone down. And drinking like that? Yeah, that was someone trying to forget. Victor only hoped that maybe he helped the boy forget all his problems if only for a little while. If Yuuri could give him one of the best nights of his life, then he hoped he could do at least that much in return.

 

[Victor Nikiforov]: That’s terrible. :(

[Victor Nikiforov]: I hope he’s okay.

[Christophe Giacometti]: Well, his coach seemed like a good guy, so he’s probably in good hands.

[Victor Nikiforov]: You don’t know any way to contact him?

[Christophe Giacometti]: My god, do you have it bad. Speaking of good hands—you think he’d be better in yours? ;)

[Victor Nikiforov]: Shut up.

[Christophe Giacometti]: I wish I’d gotten his number—at least for you, then, hah.

[Christophe Giacometti]: But hey

[Christophe Giacometti]: We’ll probably see him at Worlds, right?

[Victor Nikiforov]: I hope so.

[Christophe Giacometti]: Try not to stalk him, Victor.

[Victor Nikiforov]: I’m not going to stalk him! :c

[Christophe Giacometti]: We’ll see what happens.

 

Chris probably knew him a little better than him was willing to admit. Someone like Victor didn’t have the luxury of friends, but he was glad he at least had Chris. After ordering for room service, he grabbed his laptop from the table where he’d left it yesterday afternoon and settled on the edge of the bed.

To Victor’s immense dismay, Yuuri Katsuki had a sparse social media presence. And by that he meant that Yuuri didn’t simply didn’t have any personal accounts, be it Twitter or Instagram or anything in between. There were pages _of_ and _about_ him, however, and honestly Victor was willing to take what he could get.

It was just basic curiosity and research on a fellow skater, he kept telling himself as he went through the dozens of fanpages he found. Unfortunately, nearly all of them were in Japanese so it was difficult to understand more than the basics: Yuuri had quite a dedicated following. He was very popular in Japan, actually, being regarded by more than one official sports site as Japan’s “ace” in the realm of skating. The JSF—their webpage blessedly translated by Google—even listed him as their top certified figure skater. His picture was on the front page, gold medal from one of his previous events around his neck and a gentle smile on his face. In that outfit, dark blue with lighter accents and frilly cuffs, he really did look like a prince.

Victor was able to find a few videos of his past routines. He would have liked official high-quality captures, but he had to make do with what he got. Still, from what Victor saw, he realized why Yuuri was at the top of the roster for his country—why the boy was so beloved. The skill was undeniable, the passion unequivocal. A little rough around the edges? Sure, of course. He could almost _feel_ the nervousness through the computer screen, and anxiety could certainly be a career-killer. But there was something about the way he moved on the ice that reminded Victor of last night’s endless dancing. Yuuri moved like no one he’d ever seen before; all his masculine moves carried by feminine grace and strength. It was a union of two opposing energies into something greater, something vital. There was no real way to describe it. You simply had to see it, experience it, for yourself.

When Victor pulled up the video for Yuuri’s recent free skate—which _was_ in blessedly decent quality due to it being a major international event—his heart sank.

Yuuri stood at center ice but Victor could sense something wrong even before the music kicked in. The slow melody soon began as a hush fell over the crowd, and Victor watched sadly as the boy missed half his jumps—jumps that he’d just watched him cleanly make in previous videos. No wonder Yuuri had been so morose. Anyone would be after self-destructing like that. And yet, even with the burden of failure weighing him down, Yuuri had been so full of zeal at last night’s banquet. If that was him at his worst, Victor pondered as to what sort of wonders Yuuri could pull off if he were at his best. He wanted to see that. He _needed_ to see that.

Eventually Victor decided that clicking on one more video or one more link regarding this mysterious man would probably tantamount to either actual stalking or obsession. But as he set his laptop back onto the table, he had an idea—an idea so obvious that he couldn’t believe it hadn’t occurred to him before. Victor dashed out of his room and into the elevator, pressing the button for the lobby. During the short ride down he wondered if _this_ could be classified under stalking, but decided that no, it was still just innocent curiosity. By the time the elevator doors opened, he’d convinced himself of the fact and approached the concierge’s desk.

“Hello, I was hoping you could help me find someone?” he asked the man behind the counter. The man recognized him instantly, if his star-struck expression and subsequent smile was anything to go by.

“Of course, Mr. Nikiforov! It would be my pleasure to be of assistance to you.”

“I’m looking for a fellow skater—he probably stayed here?” It wasn’t a long shot, not by any means. This was the officially sanctioned hotel for the contestants of the Grand Prix Finals, and they had the extra security and discounted alcohol to prove it. “Yuuri Katsuki?”

“One moment, I’ll check for his room number, if you’d like?”

“Yes, please.”

The man quickly typed into his computer before frowning. Looking back up at Victor he gave him an apologetic look. “I’m afraid Mr. Katsuki checked out a few hours ago.”

What? Already? That couldn’t be….

“I see, thank you,” Victor said politely, walking away, defeated. He had half a mind to wander down the nearby hallway which he knew led to the bar. Maybe he could find solace at the bottom of a glass there—but no, Yakov would kill him if he got drunk before their flight.

Victor sighed, running a hand through his hair and reflecting on how bitterly unfair this whole thing was. Back in his room, he stood by the window, looking out at the snowy winter landscape of Sochi. There was a beach here that vaguely reminded him of home, and the thought of that launched him into a whole new set of contemplations.

For the past twenty years of his life, anything outside of competitive figure skating had been no more than a dream. But now he realized just how badly he wanted that—a life filled with endless surprises and excitement and laughter and _fun_. He realized how much he suddenly craved _love_. How could it be that in one night he was shown all that he could have by a perfect stranger?

And lord, how perfect he’d been, Yuuri Katsuki. With those big, brown eyes you could fall into forever. Those plump, pink lips that stretched into a coy smile. Victor had gotten close enough, even, to see the faint smattering of freckles across the elegant bridge of the boy’s nose. He’d been close enough to see a lot of things, really, but it still hadn’t been close… _enough_.

It was unsatisfying yet enticing to say the least. Maybe that’s why Victor was so caught up with this one person—a phenomenon anyone who knew him would be rather shocked at. He’d taken several casual lovers before, but he’d never felt this way about any of them. Never felt so utterly breathless at the mere thought of them. It was everything Yuuri had been, everything Victor had yet to know about him, and everything he represented.

It was foolish, Victor thought to himself. He was being foolish. He was twenty-seven, not seventeen. Wasn’t he a little old for a schoolboy crush? Leaning against the cold window, he sighed. Apparently not.

  

* * *

 

 

**_St. Petersburg, Russia – April: The following year_ **

On his day off, Victor had decided to stay in due to the blistery weather outside. He needed a break and was in no mood to contend with the cold spring winds anyway. Instead he sat on his couch, dressed down in only a striped sweater and sweatpants. He had only Makkachin for company, who was curled up next to him, fast asleep. Nationals had passed, the European Championships had passed, and now the World Championships had passed too. He’d been especially eager for the latter, wondering if he’d see his mysterious Cinderella again as a competitor.

Victor tried in these past few months to put the boy out of his mind at first, and when that totally failed, decided to embrace it completely. He’d even worked out the beginnings of two possible programs based on the memories and emotions from that unforgettable night! He suspected that Yakov was beginning to take notice of his rather gloomy attitude lately, and he was fairly certain the old man _knew_ what was up. Yakov was a lot of things, but he wasn’t stupid and he definitely wasn’t blind.

But anyways, it all seemed to be for naught. Ever since Worlds ended—no Yuuri in sight—he’d begun to give up. It didn’t make sense to hold on anymore, right? There were plenty of fish in the sea as Chris kept telling him, and maybe it was for the best that Victor stop dreaming about that boy. Even if… even if it felt like somedays that dream was the only thing meaningful in his life anymore.

Since the end of the season he’d been bombarded with questions about his possible retirement or if he had something planned for the next season already. He couldn’t really give a straight answer to either of those questions because he didn’t _have_ a proper answer. After years at the top, things were starting to become a little lonely. He loved skating, of course, but it was no longer as satisfying as it had been. It couldn’t fill this void that Victor felt opening up inside of him. His inspiration had slowly begun to dry up and maybe it was better if he took the season off to reconsider what it was he wanted out of his life (though he knew well in advance Yakov was going to throw a fit at the news).

Victor’s phone beeped softly with a message and he dropped the paper he was reading on a nearby stool, picking up his phone in exchange. He hadn’t actually looked at his phone all morning, but was greeted to not only a message or two, but an _onslaught_ of notifications. His twitter feed was blowing up in particular; tons of people retweeting the same YouTube link to him over and over again—all of them asking if he’d seen it. The title was neither English nor Russian, that much he knew at a glance. Chris had sent him a personal message, too.

 

[Christophe Giacometti]: Have you seen it yet?

[Victor Nikiforov]: No—I just saw my phone. Give me a minute.

[Christophe Giacometti]: You’re gonna need way more than a minute. ;)

 

Victor didn’t know what Chris was getting at, but he soon found out once he tapped the first link. It took him to YouTube, as expected. He waited impatiently for the video to load, meanwhile deducing that the title was Japanese. The first few characters seemed familiar. Seemed familiar from….

 _Good God_.

It was him. It was Yuuri.

He stood center ice in a pose Victor knew well—a pose Victor had done himself now at least half a dozen times in competition, hundreds more during practice. He seemed a bit heavier than what Victor remembered from the Banquet—and Victor _remembered damn well_ what Yuuri had been like, with narrow shoulders and an even narrower waist. A tight core and all toned muscle. Now he seemed softer, though still as beautiful.

As the choreography started Victor had been anticipating the music: his commissioned piece _Aria: Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare_. But there was no music to be heard, and he realized from the first scuff of skates on ice that Yuuri was skating without music. Not that he seemed to need it… at all. His body created the music itself—perfect and clear, just like that night at the banquet. It was intoxicating, yet again.

Victor watched the video all the way through. Then he watched it again. Then he watched it a few more times, just to be sure he really saw what he thought he was seeing. He took pity on the replay button after a while and set his phone aside, sinking into the cushions and burying his face in Makkachin’s warm fur. The poodle made a quizzical noise but didn’t move.

How could it be? How could someone skate the same program and convey such a different message? It was the same move set—the same jumps, the same step sequences. It was all the same, but overall… it was so _different_. And in a way Victor could never had imagined. He’d just witnessed someone skate to his program in this rudimentary way that somehow completely eclipsed his own original rendition.

Victor’s performance had been a lament. Yuuri’s performance had been a request.

It was more than just a request, though. It wasn’t possible to describe it in a word. It was all that and more: an invitation, a promise, a _wish_. It had all the candor and heart that Victor’s own performance had lacked.

Maybe the whole thing wasn’t even meant for him. Maybe it was meant for someone else, but even so, Victor couldn’t sit there idly—not when he’d found the glass slipper he’d be looking for all this time (whether he wanted to admit it or not).

 _“Be my coach, Victor,”_ Yuuri Katsuki had asked him, months ago. He might not even remember the events of that night, but regardless Victor had to see this boy again. There was so much potential that could be maximized, and not only in terms of skating. Victor _had_ to see for himself.

“Alright, Makkachin. Looks like we’re going to Japan.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No betas we die like men. Just kidding, we’re all already dead after episode 12, I know! 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to everyone who’s read this!!! I’m really excited to finally get to work on this project and I hope you guys will leave lots of supportive comments/feedback and kudos and bookmarks! 
> 
> Because we still know shockingly little about certain things, I’ll be taking some liberties here and there—mostly using popular headcanons/metas for things where applicable (e.g. where the hell did that pole come from, Yuuri actually skating without music in his video, etc). Also this is rated T instead of G purely because of Victor’s thirst (and the rating may change).
> 
> Please feel free to make corrections or ask questions!


	2. Episode One

**_Hasetsu, Japan – April_**  
  
There wasn’t supposed to be snow today, according to the weather forecasts. And from what Victor had learned from the guidebook he’d picked up in the airport, there wasn’t usually snow in April in this part of Japan at all. Maybe one of Yakov’s many curses actually landed and this was the effect—though it wasn’t so bad. Hasetsu was a pretty town on its own and the snow accented the mostly traditional architecture in a way that lent an extra layer of spiritual beauty to the place. The crunch of snow beneath his boots was certainly something blessedly familiar, anyway.

Even in the early morning, people were out and about, shoveling snow or busy running errands. Some of the natives seemed to recognize Victor, or at least recognized that he wasn’t from around here—which wasn’t such a difficult assumption to make. In fact, people had recognized him even at the train station, a few stopping to whisper to each other, others taking clandestine pictures. He didn’t mind—he was so used to it that he only really registered it because he was in a foreign place, alone (apart from Makkachin). Though, he secretly hoped that no one had taken pictures of him when he’d been busy admiring the multitude of posters of Yuuri that had been plastered around the station. By admiring, he’d meant gawking. They really were quite flattering and spoke volumes to how adored Yuuri was in his hometown, especially. It was heartwarming to see.

There were a few more posters along the way to the hot springs that Yuuri’s family owned. _Onsen_ , he learned it was called—more like a bath house than a simple hot springs. It wasn’t far from the train station and Makkachin was probably glad for the opportunity to run around a little after a journey that had lasted over 15 hours. Well-trained as he was, Makkachin never strayed far as they made their way to their destination, trying not to get sidetracked along the way. Locals helped point them in the right direction and before he knew it, Victor found himself looking at the beautiful _Yu-topia Akatsuki_. It was a clever play on words and names, he thought, even if the actual translation was lost on him.

Large, snow-covered cherry blossom trees stood in the courtyard, their size hinting at their age and that of the onsen they guarded. A fountain was placed in the center and though the water was frozen, the sculpture itself was lovely. It was probably older than him by several decades and that only added to its beauty. The same could be said for the entire onsen, really.  
A few stray cherry blossom petals fell on Makkachin’s head and the dog shook them off with a soft bark. It effectively announced their presence to a woman who was shoveling snow behind a large truck and hadn’t yet seen them. She peeped her head out to look and dropped the shovel, whispering something in Japanese. Judging by the surprised tone and the way her eyes went wide, she’d probably recognized him.

“Hi!” Victor started off with. “I’m Victor Nikiforov! This is the Yu-topia Akatsuki, right?”

“U-uh, yes,” the woman replied in English, brushing her hands off on her pants and coming closer. Her short hair—dyed blonde at the tips—was pushed back and held in place by a large headband. Her eyes were a very familiar shade of brown, one Victor remembered well. This was probably a relative of Yuuri, a sister, most likely. She introduced herself a moment later, “I’m Mari Katsuki—welcome!”

“Nice to meet you!” Victor smiled at her and she seemed to be at a loss for what to do, but eventually she bowed and gestured towards the door.

“Please come inside! It’s cold out here!"

“Thank you,” Victor said, picking up his suitcase—the only one he’d personally carried; the rest on their way via a delivery truck. Makkachin bounced behind him for a moment, but then apparently decided that chasing after cherry blossom leaves was more fun. “Ah, looks like he wants to play a little. He’s been through a long journey so he must be a little restless. Is it okay if he stays outside for a while? He’s well-behaved, I promise.”

“Sure,” Mari said, opening the door to the onsen for him. “That’s fine.”

Victor thanked her again as he entered and took in the sights of the onsen. Hardwood floors and warm lighting gave the place a distinctly cozy feeling. Colorful banners and various ornaments added to that traditional feeling. There were a few benches for patrons to rest on near the entrance, placed under posters that were all in Japanese. It was difficult to understand most of them, though some had helpful English translations. Across the entrance was a poster of Yuuri and he wasn’t surprised to see it. Relieved, really, because it only confirmed that he was in the right place. Then again, judging by how that poster was _everywhere_ in Hasetsu…. Victor spared a moment to wonder if they had that particular one on sale, but his thoughts were interrupted by Mari.

“Please wait here for a moment!” she vanished into the depths of the house, past a sliding door, and Victor was left standing a bit awkwardly in the entrance area. A few moments later, a woman dressed similarly to Mari came to greet him, bowing respectfully. Victor didn’t know the proper protocol, so he just bowed in return. Though dressed in a similar uniform, the woman was much shorter than Mari and looked older. She had a kind smile and warm eyes that were partially hidden behind large glasses.  


_Yuuri looks like his mother_ , Victor thought to himself.

“Welcome!” the woman said, first in Japanese and then in English. “My name is Hiroko Katsuki! Welcome to the Yu-topia Akatsuki!”

Her English was less refined as Mari’s, but still very good. Moments later a cheerful-looking man popped up in the counter to Victor’s right, sliding the little window aside. “And I’m Toshiya! This is our onsen—welcome, again!” He chuckled and said, “I never thought we’d get the famous Victor Nikiforov here as a guest! What an honor!”

“Ah! You must be so tired after such a long journey!” Hiroko said, clasping her hands together. “Please, leave your luggage there—we’ll take care of it for you. Would you like to try our hot springs? It may help you to relax.”

The Katsuki’s were already so welcoming and polite that it was a little overwhelming, but mostly just very heartwarming. And a soak in a natural hot springs sounded perfect at the moment, actually. He felt a little sore all over from the travel, a muscle-deep tension that wasn’t the type from hard training but rather hours of stiff disuse.

“That sounds wonderful, Mrs. Katsuki.” Victor wasn’t sure how to really address her. He tried to recollect the naming conventions and honorifics he’d read about in the guide. Should he have referred to her as Hiroko-san? But then would using her first name be too informal? What about Katsuki-san? But what would he call Mr. Katsuki to avoid confusion? And Yuuri, for that matter? (Well, he thought it safe to say Yuuri and him were on a first-name basis by now.) He hoped he hadn’t made some sort of blunder already or offended anyone. 

“Please, no need for such formalities—just call me Hiroko!” she said, alleviating his worries in one shot. If she insisted on casual language, then he was more than willing to go along with it.

“And please just call me Toshiya!” Yuuri’s father came around from behind the counter, bowing a little like Hiroko had done. “You’ve met our daughter Mari already, yes? And as for our son….”

Hiroko and Toshiya exchanged smiles before turning back to him and saying in unison, “Please take care of him!”

“Ah, of course!” It seemed that the Katsuki’s were a clever bunch, having already deduced his reasons for being here—to, well, coach Yuuri. Though that little rumor had begun circulating through the internet the moment he pressed _confirm_ on his one-way plane ticket to Japan. Yakov had been the only person he’d told—and if Victor really concentrated he could still hear the old man screaming at him from Russia somehow—so he must’ve told the others at the rink. From there, it was no wonder that the news had circulated and reached all the way across the world, including the Katsuki’s who would have obviously heard by now. At the very least, they were quick enough to put two-and-two together when Victor arrived at their doorstep.

“Anyway, please follow me to the hot springs! I’m sure you’ll love it—everyone does!” Toshiya said, gesturing towards the interior of the onsen. Victor followed behind him, listening to the man’s helpful instructions on how to properly use the onsen, from the initial shower to the actual _soaking_ in the springs. It was easy enough to understand and Victor had been to a fancy bath house before with Chris while in Greece for a competition a few years ago, so it wasn’t like he was completely lost. He had something to compare the onsen to, at least, but he quickly found that it was quite different. He could see the wisps of old rituals clinging to the current tradition and it was impossible to not appreciate that.

“I’m certain that Yuuri will be around soon,” Toshiya said at the end of the short, instructional tour. “He’ll be very surprised, I’m sure!”

“I look forward to meeting him,” Victor said honestly. “I hope you don’t mind me staying here to coach him.” It wouldn’t be difficult for him to find another place to stay, but he _really_ wanted to see how Yuuri lived….

“Oh, no! It’s truly an honor to have such an esteemed person such as yourself staying here as a guest! Please make yourself at home—and enjoy the hot springs!” Toshiya said, bowing and seeing himself out, leaving Victor in the locker room.  

Before long, Victor finally made his way into the hot springs. There were no other guests here perhaps because it was still early in the day. The enclosure was surrounded by a tall wooden fence, affording ample privacy from the outside (though not necessarily the inside, if the glass doors were anything to go by). There was snow piled on the statues near wall and on the green branches of the trees planted in the corners. Bamboo and native grasses grew thickly around the place as well, adding to the comfortable atmosphere. But there was no snow on the fountain in the middle of the hot springs, likely because the heat had melted it all away as it fell. Steam rose from the water in thick tendrils, enticing him into the shallow spring.

Placing his towel on his head (as he’d seen done in travel brochures, and now understood the practicality of!), he took a step into the hot spring, sighing with pleasure at how _incredible_ it felt already. He quickly sunk into the water, settling near the back and stretching out, allowing the water—hot, almost too hot, but somehow _just right_ —to work out the knots in his muscles with its warmth.

The journey hadn’t been too terribly hard on him, not with the comfort of first class. But it was still _long_ and being cooped up for that amount of time never worked well with him. He’d spent most of the flight reading that guidebook and the other parts sleeping, worrying about Makkachin, and trying to convince himself once more that this was a good idea and in _no way_ a terribly impulsive thing to do (which is what Yakov kept grumbling on the way to the airport). The train ride to Hasetsu at least allowed him and Makkachin to stretch their legs, since it had been mostly empty apart from the two of them. He’d watched the buildings blur by through the train window, pondering what this chapter of his life would be like. More than anything, Victor wanted to live a life with as few regrets as possible and he knew with full certainty that if he didn’t take this chance he’d been given, he’d regret until the day he died.

Regardless… Victor still wondered how this whole thing would work out. Would Yuuri remember him? Of course he would, right? Then again the boy had been _extremely_ drunk so maybe that night would be hazy for him. Even so he’d at least be happy to see his idol here with the intention of coaching him. Anyone would be, right? And after all he was Victor Nikiforov. When all else failed, at least that was there.

Though if Victor was being completely and totally honest with himself, this was not only about coaching Yuuri. It was partly an excuse just to _see_ him again. To see the person that changed the course of his life so dramatically. He couldn’t stop thinking about that video, of Yuuri performing his routine with such effortless grace. _Was it for me, Yuuri?_ Victor inquired in his head. He hoped so, oh God did he hope so. He was here in Hasetsu now, just like Yuuri had asked.

What kind of person was Yuuri Katsuki sober, Victor began to wonder after a few moments. Was he nearly as outgoing, as rambunctious? Or was he calm and quiet instead? What sort of things did he do for fun? To wind down after a long day? Did he have many friends? _Did he have a lover?_

Well, that was something Victor hadn’t thought about yet, but something he needed to immediately clarify. Not that he was going to pack up and leave either way—no, he was here to bring out Yuuri’s full potential as a skater and he was going to do that no matter what. He owed it to the world to show them how just beautiful Yuuri’s skating was, and that was something he had committed to already.

Almost as if on cue, Victor heard the sliding door to the hot spring suddenly slam open. A flustered, disheveled Yuuri flew through, almost tripping over himself. His hair was in disarray, his glasses skewed—a very familiar picture, in all honesty. Though he was wearing a lot more clothing than the last time Victor had seen him in person, and his cute chubby cheeks were something new as well.

“Victor? Why are you here…?” The voice was the same—the same one Victor dreamt about many times since the banquet, though far more timid.

He saw the shock, the disbelief on Yuuri’s face and steeled himself. _Alright Victor, just be charmingly direct_ , he told himself. A straightforward approach was always best, right? Was there even a need to break the ice between them anyway? He might as well just announce why he was here in his classic grandiose style—which always worked on everyone else.

Sliding the towel off his hair and standing up, he pointed to his new protégé-to-be. “Yuuri, starting today, I’ll be your coach! I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final!” A smile and a wink to seal the deal.

Though, as Yuuri stared at him with a look somewhere between amazement and abject horror he began to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t have been a little more subtle. Ah, well, Yuuri was probably just nervous! That was to be expected—no problem! It would work out perfectly, Victor was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had a happy holiday season! I wanted to get this out by Christmas (for Victor’s birthday and all!!!) but….
> 
> No one can tell me that Yuuri’s family wasn’t totally trolling him when it came to Victor’s arrival. “Handsome foreign guest” yeah okay lmao like the Katsuki’s wouldn’t recognize Yuuri’s idol—the man who’s plastered all over his room. Best family.
> 
> Apologies for a relatively short chapter! I didn't want to drag it on or anything, not when we can get to the fun stuff soon ;D
> 
> Also a HUGE thank you to everyone who's commented, left kudos, bookmarked, etc so far! Your support means absolutely everything to me! :)


	3. Episode Two

Pork cutlet bowls—or _katsudon,_ rather—was the food of gods, Victor quickly decided. It was really no surprise that Yuuri liked them so much. It was a funnily deceptive dish, appearing to be simple and straightforward but being far more delightful than you could ever predict at first glance. Again, it was no wonder that it was Yuuri’s favorite dish.

Sitting across from him, Yuuri was still refusing to meet his eyes, but Victor supposed it was his own fault, really. He’d tried to get a rise out of him—had criticized his victory-less indulgence in the heavenly food and declared it off-limits until further notice, tacking on a stipulation that the younger skater had to slim back down to his Grand Prix Final weight; complete with a new nickname— _piglet_. He’d said all of it to see if Yuuri was serious about the coaching thing. It was a tall order, expecting someone to lay off their comfort food and lose weight in a short amount of time. He’d also said it just to see how Yuuri would react, because up until now, Yuuri hadn’t reacted very much at all, apart from quiet disbelief.

Victor wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Mostly, he had been expecting Yuuri to object, to do or say something in return, but Yuuri just sort of looked stunned—like he genuinely couldn’t believe any of this was happening. He was clearly caught off guard though, embarrassed, probably. Dazed at Victor’s harsh words he stumbled over himself a little, but maintained his politeness.

Clearly, sober Yuuri was very different than drunk Yuuri.

Victor realized that he was now forced to reassess just about everything in this new situation. It wouldn’t be fair to bring up the banquet. He’d put enough pressure on poor Yuuri already and bringing up that night probably wouldn’t do any good. That much alcohol could turn anyone into a different person (and honestly Victor was still impressed that Yuuri had thrown back so many flutes of champagne and lived to tell the tale), and it was possible his memory of the night had been scattered a little. Besides, what happens at the banquet stays at the banquet—for the most part. Victor had the most extensive collection of photos and videos of the night, amassed via lots of pleading and bribes, but no one needed to know that. Least of all, Yuuri.

Yuuri’s ballet teacher chuckled softly at the scene and was clearly on Victor’s side at the moment. She’d introduced herself as Minako Okukawa in surprisingly good English, leading Victor to believe she was a well-traveled as she seemed. Victor could no doubt rely on her as a possible ally in his endeavors to get Yuuri to the podium. It was too early to gauge if she would continue to be an ally in Victor’s other, more personal mission of getting to know Yuuri better, and he figured he shouldn’t push his luck just yet.

She seemed like she was about to say something to Yuuri when Mari peeked into the room. “Hey, this luggage is in the way,” she informed them. The delivery service Victor hired had finally dropped off his things, probably while he’d been asleep. (And honestly, he couldn’t figure out just when he’d slept, but apparently he’d been more exhausted by his trip than he realized.)

“Can you take it to the room where I’ll be staying?” Victor asked as Makkachin draped himself over his shoulders, eager for some attention. Minako and Yuuri seemed surprised, clearly unaware that the Katsuki’s had already invited him to stay at the onsen. Even so, Yuuri was quick to jump to action, helping his sister. Minako got Victor’s attention before he could stand up, so he simply let Makkachin follow Yuuri out of the room instead.

“So you’re serious about this coaching thing?” the woman asked, swirling the last of her sake around in her cup. There was no accusatory tone, not like Victor had been expecting. But Victor knew it was more than curiosity. It was clear already that Minako was very close to Yuuri and had his best interests at heart, and Victor could practically sense her protective instincts from across the table. But Victor was glad for it—glad to know that Yuuri had people in his life who would look out for him with no ulterior motives at play. Speaking of ulterior motives though, that was precisely was Minako was worried about. Of that, Victor was sure. After all, who wouldn’t be? She hadn’t been there during the banquet, hadn’t heard Yuuri’s request, and most of all, she couldn’t know how much it all meant to Victor.

“Of course,” was Victor’s simple reply. When Minako raised her eyebrow in suspicion, he continued. “He’s incredibly talented and all that potential shouldn’t go to waste.”

Victor thought that Minako was going to warn him or maybe even give him the dreaded _shovel talk_ but instead, she took another sip of her sake and nodded with a low hum. “I agree.”

“How well do you know him?” Victor asked afterwards in an attempt to break the silence.

“Very,” Minako said fondly, looking into her cup as she seemed to recall a trove of memories. “Saw him grow up in front of my own eyes. He’s a good kid. Dedicated, honest, hard-working. He holds you in high regard, but then so does the rest of the world, right? In any case, he won’t disappoint you.”

“I know,” Victor replied, smiling to himself as he looked at the empty bowl of katsudon. He already knew everything she’d just told him. “I hope you’ll help get Yuuri to the podium.”

“You can count on me.” She grinned at him, setting down her empty cup. Victor was relieved to hear her say that even though he hadn’t really been worried to begin with. He’d admit that he knew next to nothing about coaching other than what he picked up from Yakov and a few of his old coaches, but the importance of a strong support system couldn’t be understated in an athlete’s life. But before he could start working on that front, there were several other things Victor wanted to work on first.

 

It was shocking, to say the least, how quickly Yuuri had moved all those boxes. After parting ways with Minako and heading upstairs to where he’d be staying, Victor found Yuuri placing down the last of the boxes and pausing to catch his breath. Makkachin was already inside, probably having supervised the ordeal like the good dog he was, and wagged his tail happily when he saw Victor.

“Wow, what a classic, tiny room!” Victor exclaimed, stretching a little as he did a quick glance around. He was used to hardwood and tile so the soft tatami floors felt foreign to his feet. A row of small, colorful lanterns with Japanese writing hung above the entry way. The door itself was the sliding kind and was really more of a glorified screen, though it would provide ample enough privacy, especially given that there was a metal latch to be used for locking. The room was connected to a smaller one by ways of a door, and it was probably a storage area. To the opposite side was a closet that spanned the width of the room. Though perhaps the most interesting thing about his new living quarters was not the room itself but rather the fact that Yuuri’s own bedroom was right adjacent to it. (At least, Victor _guessed_ that was his bedroom, since he wasn’t able to see inside of it—yet.) Plus, their rooms were the only two on this floor.

Victor knew that he would have to spend the better part of tomorrow unpacking his many belongings, but he was certain he could make this place feel like home in no time at all. As a long shot though he asked “Is there a sofa?”

“No,” Yuuri answered, still working to catch his breath a little after moving so many boxes in so little time. He looked up at Victor apologetically, his glasses slightly lower on his nose. Meekly he said, “I’m sorry it’s so small. We only had an unused banquet room available.”

Victor didn’t mind in the least. A lifetime of traveling all over the world for endless competitions had made him flexible, able to adjust to just about any situation at all. He was a naturally adventurous person and being in a foreign country so different from his homeland was thrilling. He was excited at the prospect of finding inspiration, finding _love_ —all from Yuuri. So maybe what really excited him more than anything was in fact the shy boy kneeling in front of him—and Victor spared a thought at how pleasing that imagery would be under some very different circumstances. Quiet, polite, timid. Regarding Yuuri, none of those words had come to mind at the banquet—which already seemed so long ago—but this was the Yuuri here and now. The real Yuuri, in a way; not influenced by either grief or alcohol.

“You seem anxious,” Victor noted, though maybe anyone would be in this situation. “Don’t worry, you can pay my coaching fees after you achieve success! I’ll bill you later!”

“T-Thank you.” Still so nervous. Ah, well, Victor could work with that, in any case. He didn’t actually have anything in mind as far as payment went. Money interested him little—he had more than enough of that already. And regardless, with a face as cute as Yuuri’s, it warranted at least a discount.

“Yuuri, tell me everything about yourself.” Victor stepped forward, getting down on a knee so he could face Yuuri properly. Yuuri seemed surprised by the movement, his mouth falling open a little, but didn’t move otherwise. Victor reached out, gently lifting Yuuri’s chin to get a better look at him. Those eyes—Victor could never forget them. Brown was a common color, but Yuuri’s eyes were a uniquely different shade. The hue was more like cinnamon or nutmeg, almost a dark red when the light hit them at just the right angle. Victor caressed Yuuri’s cheek with a swift swipe of his fingers, marveling at how soft Yuuri’s skin was—as soft as he’d remembered from all those months ago. His cheeks were a little chubbier now—much like the rest of him—and it was positively _adorable_. Yuuri had the type of face that made him seem a lot younger than he really was, and it was even more pronounced now with the little bit of extra weight that would lamentably have to come off in the following days.

A faint blush was already spreading across Yuuri’s face, highlighting his plush, rosy lips that Victor just knew were going to be entirely too distracting. It was funny, Victor thought, how enthralled he already was even though they’d barely spoken at all. But that little detail could be quickly and easily rectified. “What sort of rink do you skate at? What’s in this city? Is there a girl you like?”

Yuuri’s blush deepened, but maybe it wasn’t from the questioning. Purposefully, Victor had let his loose robe—a _jinbei¸_ he’d learned it was called—slip a little off his shoulder. Yuuri gasped so softly that if Victor hadn’t been so close to him, he’d have never heard it at all. Victor ran his hand down Yuuri’s arm, his fingers closing around Yuuri’s own after finding them. He tilted the boy’s chin up a little more, inching a little closer. “Before we start training, let’s first focus on creating a relationship of growing trust between the two of us.”

Again, Yuuri didn’t say anything apart from a soft gasp. It all must be so new to him if he was reacting this way, though Victor couldn’t imagine why. He was talented and stunning—surely he must’ve had admirers in the past. Anyway, it didn’t matter. They were close enough now that if Victor leaned forward just a little more, he could kiss those lips he’d been wanting to touch all this time. All Yuuri had to do was stay still and….

It was exactly the opposite of what occurred next. Before Victor realized what even happened, Yuuri was suddenly several feet away from him. He’d more-or-less thrown himself against the far wall, across the narrow hallway, away from Victor’s grasp. “What? Why are you running away?” Victor couldn’t keep either the surprise or the disappointment out of his voice.

“Uh, no reason….” Yuuri squeaked out, clearly flustered. Before Victor could say anything else, Yuuri scrambled to his feet, bowed, and then disappeared from the hallway. The sound of the nearby door slamming shut was all that followed. Makkachin, who had been busy inspecting the tatami floors up until now, came to sit beside him. Victor could almost _hear_ the dog laughing at his failed attempt of seduction.

But no! He wasn’t going to give up that easily. Not after all this time. Grabbing the nearby pillow, he gestured for Makkachin to follow him to Yuuri’s door. “Yuuri, let’s sleep together!” he suggested, knocking on the door with purpose. Even if Yuuri didn’t let him into his bed (and honestly, Victor doubted that it was even a possibility at this point, no matter _how badly_ he wanted to cuddle his new protégé), sleeping in close quarters was always a wonderfully intimate way to get to know someone. “As your coach, there’s so much I need to learn about you!”

Unfortunately, his request was met with a firm denial. After calling out Yuuri’s name a few more times to see if the boy would relent, Victor cut his losses and gave up. Makkachin looked up at him with a little whine, and he shrugged at the old poodle. Trying not to feel too dejected, he made his way back to his own room. Did he already go wrong somewhere? Why was Yuuri being so distant? Did he change his mind about wanting Victor to be his coach?

Tying his hardest not to sulk too much, Victor rolled out the fluffy futon he’d generously been provided and laid down. Makkachin curled up next to him and he buried his face in the dog’s soft fur. He hadn’t expected his advances to be rebuffed, not so thoroughly. If Yuuri wanted to play hard to get, that was one thing—Victor could play along. He’d enjoy the chase, even. But that wasn’t the case here. There was no game to be played (at least, not yet). It was entirely possible that Yuuri hadn’t actually expected Victor to fly down to Japan to be his coach. A drunken request wasn’t exactly legally binding. As such, he was probably still getting over his shock—anyone would wind up in the same position if their idol showed up out of the blue, right?

Alright, that was fine. Victor knew he’d have to re-do everything he’d had planned for the time being and focus on the _coaching_ aspect first, everything else second. But that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. First and foremost, it was important that Yuuri realize his full potential as a skater, and that was something only Victor could help him achieve. Everything _else_ could be handled in a more delicate manner, so as to not make Yuuri uncomfortable. It wouldn’t do to come on too strongly and have Yuuri completely shut him out, despite how eager Victor was to get to know him. With all his regular inhibitions and social filters intact and not affected by alcohol, Yuuri was a genuinely shy person. Victor didn’t know the extent of Yuuri’s boundaries, but he knew he’d have to exercise caution as to not overstep too soon. Though, pushing Yuuri out of his comfort zone was something he’d need to do—mainly from a coaching standpoint. This was not going to be easy in any aspect at all.

But ah, Victor always _loved_ a challenge. And this one would be so worthwhile.

Victor kept telling himself that on repeat, desperately trying to avoid wallowing in self-pity and heartbreak. It would be unbecoming of him, wouldn’t it? Thankfully, only Makkachin was witness to his wallowing and he was the best secret keeper Victor knew. Hugging his faithful companion, Victor let the jetlag overcome him once again.

 

* * *

 

Victor found himself the next morning shining with new resolve! After a brief breakfast, they had set off to Yuuri’s home rink—Ice Castle Hasetsu—with Victor borrowing Yuuri’s old yellow bicycle as both Yuuri and Makkachin followed. Though Makkachin seemed to have a much easier time in doing so, for now.

Hasetsu was truly a beautiful town, Victor noticed along the way. The day’s previous snowy weather had given way to brilliant sunshine that turned the town from a calm, almost mystical place into one that was lively and charming. As a port town, the whole place seemed to wake early. People were already out and about, running errands or going to work or school. Victor greeted everyone they passed and they all either smiled back at him or greeted him in return—something that wouldn’t normally happen back in his own home city, where people mostly kept to themselves.

By the time they arrived at the ice rink, Yuuri looked like he was about to pass out—but that was all part of Victor’s plan. A daily (intense) morning workout would kick start Yuuri’s training. Only when you were pushed to your limits could you see how far you could really go. That was the general idea, at least. Yuuri didn’t seem to be type to complain, and even though he was huffing for breath, he didn’t say a word.

Once inside, Victor introduced himself to the Nishigori’s. Yuuri had told him that Yuuko and Takeshi had been old childhood friends and rink mates of his. They’d supported him throughout his career and now, conveniently, they ran the rink. They reacted with the same level of shock and disbelief as he’d expected and were just as graciously accommodating as the Katsuki’s had been. Things like that, he was long used to.

Victor had, of course, forbidden Yuuri from stepping foot in the rink until he returned to his Grand Prix Final weight. He half expected Yuuri to dispute it—after all, hadn’t he been able to skate Victor’s own routine?—but Yuuri accepted Victor’s prerequisite obediently. Victor would argue it was staunch motivation if anyone asked—a tough love approach, much like something Yakov would do. And moreover, any extra weight on a competitive figure skater could be detrimental—to the joints, especially. It would spell a short, painful career. Yuuri getting injured was the last thing he wanted to see, and he could feel a small kernel of dread in his chest at the very thought of it.

In the meantime, Victor figured he could work on the two choreographies he’d be planning out for the last few weeks. Maybe not surprisingly, they were both based on that fateful night of the banquet. The underlying theme was the same for the two of them: love. One, choreographed to a beautiful operatic melody, was on that pure, unconditional love he’d realized he’d been craving for so long once he met Yuuri. The other, carried instead by a flamenco guitar, was based on their passionate dance together near the end of the night.

What he felt was complicated. He wasn’t good enough with his words to express it neither to himself nor anyone else verbally. Normally, he’d pour what he felt into skating, but now there were two issues with that. The first being that the complexity he was struggling with refused to be expressed in any single choreography—neither programs were anywhere near enough to convey his true emotions. The second problem was simply that he was not skating this season. If he wanted to reach out to Yuuri, he wouldn’t be able to do it on the ice—not like usual. He wouldn’t be able to do it as Victor Nikiforov, the Living Legend. He’d have to do it as _just_ Victor.

He hoped it would be enough.

           

* * *

 

They were taking a break outside a few days later. Well, Victor and Makkachin were taking a break. Yuuri continued to work on his bench jumps diligently. He’d already slimmed down a little, no small part in thanks to Minako. He spent a lot of time over at her place, Victor noticed. No doubt he was comfortable around her—something that Victor envied a little. Yuuri was still flighty around him, though maybe because it had only been a few days since Victor had arrived. They had yet to really get to know each other.

“Yuuri, do you have feelings for Minako?” Victor asked out of the blue. He himself doubted it, but it was a conversation starter nonetheless.

Yuuri stopped his jumps abruptly, “What?! No way!” he denied furiously. Well, that was one question answered.

“Do you have a lover?” Victor tried next. _Please say no._

“No.” _YES!_

“Any ex-lovers?” Victor couldn’t hide his excitement, nor did he try to. Yuuri was blessedly single and that was all the motivation Victor needed to steamroll right ahead.

“N-No comment,” Yuuri replied, even more nervously than before.

“Let’s talk about me!” Victor leaned in close as Yuuri backed away a little, surprised by the sudden proximity. “My first lover was—”

“Stop!” Victor hadn’t been able to recount the tale of his first love like he wanted to—in hopes of awakening something, anything in Yuuri (be it his own desire to _talk_ or help him remember that banquet)—when Yuuri stopped him. Victor sighed, resigned to the fact that he really had no idea what he was doing and Yuuri was clearly very slow to warm up to people.

Suddenly, Makkachin started barking at something behind them. Whatever it was, Victor was glad for it because it broke the air of awkwardness between him and Yuuri. Victor looked back, and then up at the beautiful castle in the distance. It seemed only a short walk away from where they were sitting now. “Yuuri, what’s that castle over there?”

“Oh, that’s Hasetsu Castle,” Yuuri explained. Then in a cute mock-serious voice, “Inside is a ninja house.”

“Really? Ninjas?!” Now _that_ was bewildering! Who didn’t love ninjas? That just screamed photo-op and he’d have to be a fool not to take full advantage of it!

 

Maybe he hadn’t thought that Instagram post all the way through. It wasn’t like no one knew where Victor was. People had confirmed his presence in Hasetsu several times over by now. He’d made several tweets on the matter himself. However, it seemed that his photo somehow served as an official confirmation—of him being in Hasetsu, and of him being Yuuri’s coach. People—news reporters, especially—all flocked to both the onsen and the ice rink for a chance to land an interview with either of them. Interestingly, tourism apparently picked up in the little town as well!

All things considered, it was better that this all happen now and they get it out of the way before they started training in earnest. That way, they could have their privacy when it counted the most. For now, it was just a matter of dealing with the press. It really wasn’t too much of a hassle. Victor was long accustomed to it. He’d spent most of his life in the spotlight and he knew just how to handle himself. Greeting anyone who approached him graciously, he kept his answers as simple as possible: Yes, he was going to be Yuuri Katsuki’s coach. Yes, he was staying at the Yu-topia onsen. Yes, he was going to see Yuuri to the Grand Prix Finals. Yes, he was working on choreography. Yes, he was taking a break to consider his future plans. No, this didn’t mean he was officially retiring. And oh, his favorite Japanese dish was katsudon.

Most all other answers he gave remained intentionally vague—as he’d learned to do over the years. You had to make yourself some privacy any way you could when you were in the public eye. It’s what he told Yuuri as well, though the boy seemed to find his own way of avoiding the press. For one thing, he had fully dedicated himself to his weight loss so he was rarely at home or at one place long enough for the press to be able to pin him down. (Minako scared them off whenever Yuuri sought refuge at her place, apparently.) And for another, he seemed to have a talent for quietly blending into the background somehow—at least that’s what others said. Victor found that strange though, considering how Yuuri was very clearly the most beautiful person in the room at any given moment.

In any case, the days passed by quickly and within the week, the press was sufficiently satisfied for Victor’s presence to not be breaking news anymore. It was during an otherwise unassuming afternoon while he was working on his programs that he was shaken out of his thoughts by a familiar, yet unexpected voice. “You look like you’re doing great, Victor!”

He turned to see Yuri Plisetski—standing next to a very confused Yuuri—scowling at him (or was that really just how his face was?) from the other side of the boards. “Yuri, you’re here? I’m surprised Yakov let you come!” In all his time, he’d never known Yakov to be so lenient! Had Yuri somehow managed to escape? Yuri was currently glaring daggers at him, for some reason or another. “Well, what do you want? Judging by that look, I’m guessing I forgot some promise I made!”

It only made the teen angrier and as he skated off the ice, Yuri angrily reminded Victor of his promise to choreograph his senior debut. “Sorry, sorry,” Victor started, pulling on his jacket. If he dug through the far recesses of his mind, he vaguely remembered something like that from _years_ ago. “I totally forgot! But you knew I was the forgetful type, right?”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware,” Yuri grumbled, shaking in frustration.

Growing up, Yakov had berated him at least a million times over for his poor memory. He’d forget about important meetings, interviews, galas, photoshoots all the time even if Yakov reminded him about them the day before. Over the years, Yakov had taken to just showing up at Victor’s door to drag him out for the specified event instead. But if Victor had to think about it, it was more that he had an oddly selective memory, rather than being genuinely forgetful. Things directly related to skating and the ice itself, he didn’t forget. Other commitments? Yeah, for some reason he could never quite retain those things. Interestingly, he never did forget a single detail of the night of the banquet. He still remembered the way Yuuri had thrown his arms around his neck and asked in that bubbly voice, _“Be my coach, Victor!”_ But perhaps that was just due to the fact that Victor had replayed that night in his head a countless number of times—to the point where it was just engraved in his brain forever. See? He could remember things if he wanted to! Not that he had wanted to forget his promise to young Yuri, but….

“But a promise is a promise!” Yuri blurted, determination on his face. Yuuri stood silently next to him, politely letting him and Victor have their conversation without intruding upon it. “You’ll choreograph my new program, Victor! Let’s go back to Russia!”

Victor was taken aback by the sudden demand. This was a sticky situation he’d found himself in. He hadn’t foreseen Yuri showing up here, much less demanding that Victor return to Russia. Looking at Yuuri (and _oh_ this name thing was going to get confusing very quickly), with his eyes wide as though he was already anticipating rejection, Victor realized just how much he didn’t want to leave Hasetsu. He was enjoying his time here and finally, _finally_ starting to get closer to Yuuri. It wouldn’t be fair to pack up and move back after all this—especially since Yuuri had worked so hard to meet Victor’s ultimatum. But it also wasn’t fair to _Yura_ —an endearing nickname for Yuri he wouldn’t dare say aloud in fear of facing explosive teenage-grade ire. After all, even if it had been long ago, Victor had promised to choreograph his senior debut. There had to be a solution.

Ah!

Victor congratulated himself for coming up with a plan so quickly. It was a simple idea and so wonderfully elegant as well. “Okay, I’ve decided! Tomorrow I’ll choreograph a program for both of you to the same music I’m using in my short program.”

“What? To the same choreography?”

“Huh? To the same music?”

Their immediate reluctance was amusing but Victor predictable.

“No, this piece has several different arrangements. I was trying to decide which one to use,” he explained. “I’ll think of a different program for each of you, of course.”

It seemed to placate both Yuuri and Yura for the time being.

“I’ll reveal the programs in one week!” It gave him enough time to put the finishing touches on both programs and to get things ready for his master plan. “You’ll compete to see who can surprise the audience more!”

“Whoa, let’s take a step back here! I don’t want to be punished for losing!” Yuuri’s anxiety seemed to be kicking in already—but perhaps the presence of headstrong Yura would help bring out his more confident side.

“Victor will do whatever the winner says! If those are the terms, I’m in!” Yura added, a determined look on his face indicating that he was already sure of his ability to win. His overconfidence could end up hindering him in the future, but Victor was certain that Yuuri would provide enough of a challenge to the young skater that would make him realize that sometimes you had to be cautious.

“Great—I love that kind of thing!” Victor said with a smile. He was suddenly very eager! The next week was going to be a very exciting—and hopefully surprising—one indeed.

“Wait a minute!” A unison of three tiny voices suddenly rang out. Victor turned to see Yuuko’s triplets standing there with matching mischievous expressions. “Will you let us organize the event? A face-off between Russia’s Yuri and Japan’s Yuuri! Let’s throw a huge party!”

Victor could never say no to such a fantastic idea and so, within a matter of hours, word had already spread across Hasetsu and into the neighboring towns. He’d never know how the triplets worked so fast, but come nightfall, a giant poster hung over Hasetsu Castle announcing the event, along with news broadcasts that relayed the upcoming event to the whole world. _Hot Springs on Ice_ certainly had a nice ring to it.

 

* * *

 

At first, Victor had been worried that Yuuri would wilt under the pressure from Yura’s presence. The teenager wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with and now that he’d announced that he’d be staying with them, it made things a little more… tense. However, Yuuri’s temperance seemed to be the perfect countermeasure for all that angst. Evident from the start, he didn’t let Yura’s insults affect him and was easily able to placate and accommodate the young skater, treating him just like you would any other fifteen year old. Maybe thoroughly beating someone in an impromptu freestyle breakdancing competition erased any sort of fear you felt towards them.

Victor was still waiting for Yura to yell at him for running off to Japan to chase after his Cinderella and was honestly surprised that it hadn’t happened yet. It was coming though, he was sure of that—it was just a matter of time and circumstance. Yura had been witness (and victim) to most of Victor’s endless pining the months following the Grand Prix Finals. He was more observant that people gave him credit for too, having realized the extent of Victor’s yearning before anyone else, apart from Chris.

They were having dinner now, with Yura absolutely demolishing the bowl of katsudon Hiroko had prepared for him. That wasn’t a surprise, nor was the fact that he’d enjoyed the hot springs despite his initial reluctance to bathe in public. The Yu-topia onsen was a little slice of paradise, Victor thought.

“This is great!” Yura exclaimed. Yuuri and Hiroko smiled with something akin to pride; that yet another foreigner found their famous dish so delectable.

“The katsudon is great, isn’t it?” Victor himself was indulging himself in some alcohol at the moment, having finished eating already. The Katsuki’s had the best katsudon recipe in town—or possibly even the whole world. He’d tried it in other places around Hasetsu just to see, but it couldn’t quite measure up.

Mari walked into the room and asked Yuuri something in Japanese. Yura turned to look, probably at the mention of his name—though it wasn’t he who Mari was speaking to. Hiroko politely filled Mari (who suddenly seemed quite star-stuck) in on the situation. “His name is also Yuri!”

“What? That’s confusing,” Mari complained and Victor silently agreed. Very confusing indeed, and potentially awkward especially in the future…. “Okay, you’re Yurio!”

Yura— _Yurio—_ balked at the new nickname, but said nothing else, probably out of shock. But at least that solved the confusing name problem.

Mari and Yuuri conversed for a moment more in Japanese and Victor got the general gist of the conversation when Yuuri left to help Mari clean the upstairs storage room where Yurio would be staying.

“Good for you, Yurio,” Victor said, congratulating him on his new nickname. It was a cute, he thought. Like the Katsuki’s were familiarizing themselves with another outsider already and including him in their family, just as they had Victor.

“Shut up! That’s not my name!” Victor couldn’t help but laugh at the way Yurio pouted and threatened him with the fork. It was always like this between them, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

 

Yurio eventually finished his meal and promptly fell asleep on the table. By the time Mari came back to clean up, the teenager was out like a light.

“Where’s Yuuri?” Victor asked, having expected Yuuri to return with her.

“He left a while ago,” Mari informed him, piling things onto the tray she was carrying. “At a time like this, he’d be at Minako-sensei’s place or at Ice Castle. He’s always been that way.”

It must be strange for Yuuri to suddenly have yet another person drop into his life and shake things up for him. Victor only hoped that Yuuri didn’t feel bad about Yurio’s presence, or feel that he was at a natural disadvantage as far as their competition went. After all, Victor’s feelings in the matter meant overall very little. The challenge was to surprise the audience and that had been intentional on Victor’s part. Not only was it because he believed surprising the audience should be an athlete and performer’s objective, but… it was also because he wasn’t sure he could be objective in this case were he to be the judge. He had history with Yurio, but he had come all this way for _Yuuri_.

Makkachin had disappeared too and he realized that the he must have followed Yuuri. Well, the poodle seemed to have the right idea. The night was still young and there was no reason that Victor couldn’t go out and make sure Yuuri was alright.

Mari had given him two possible places that Yuuri could be, and he decided to start with Minako’s. It wasn’t until he was already halfway down the block that Victor realized he’d forgotten to ask for directions. But it wasn’t too big of a deal. The townsfolk were very helpful and one of the shop owners pointed him in the right direction. A short walk later and he found himself in an alleyway lined with various establishments. It was the one with the bright pink sign, he’d been informed. Stepping inside, Victor wondered if he was at the right place. The sign read _Kachu Snack Bar_ —a bar? It was hard to imagine Yuuri spending most of his free time at a bar, but then again, Victor had personally witnessed Yuuri’s ability to throw back glass after glass of alcohol. But even then it didn’t seem like him.

The place was empty anyway, until Minako came into view from the other side of the bar. She was dressed in a fashionable suit and wore her hair down. She seemed surprised to see Victor there, but gestured for him to sit down on one of the bar stools. He did so, unbuttoning his coat as Minako poured him a glass of something he didn’t recognize. “I was looking for Yuuri. Mari said that he’d either be at the rink or at your place.”

“Huh? Yuuri? He’s not here. By ‘my place’ she’d meant my ballet studio,” Minako explained. Ah, of course. That made far more sense. Victor felt a little silly for not defaulting to that in the first place, though he had no idea where it was. “Whenever Yuuri gets anxious, he always wants to practice. I usually go along with him. Ice Castle lets him skate anytime if it’s not booked already. Yuuri was able to grow because he had a place where he could practice alone whenever he got anxious. He’s no genius, but he was gifted with more free time than anyone else to practice.”

She explained it matter-of-factly, as though it was something known to everyone in the town. That sounded very much like Yuuri: slipping away from an uncomfortable situation to go somewhere he felt more at ease. Victor thought for a moment how alike the two of them were in that regard. He, too, often escaped to the safety of the ice rink whenever he felt nervous or restless for whatever reason. He could throw himself into his skating and not worry about anything else. Victor didn’t know what, if anything, had upset Yuuri and he felt that he might be overstepping if he asked at this point. But he did understand what skating meant to Yuuri. It was more than just his profession. It was his way of expressing himself and of finding peace. That was something Victor could relate to more than anything.

“I see. I guess I’ll try looking for him there,” Victor said, standing back up. He’d only taken a few sips of his drink. He reached for his wallet but Minako waved her hand dismissively.

“I never know what he’s thinking. He doesn’t share his thoughts easily in fear of burdening people with them. Or maybe he thinks people will find him weak. In any case, I hope with you around, he opens up more,” she said, clearing the bar in a few swift movements. She smiled warmly at him.

“I hope so too,” Victor said earnestly, earning a fond chuckle from Minako in return.

“If anyone can, it’s you. Not because you’re his idol or anything, but because you’re the right type of person.” Victor was touched by her faith in him. It was clear that she wanted to see Yuuri come out of his shell more, to see him reach his full potential and succeed. Victor wanted that too and he was determined not to let either Minako _or_ Yuuri down.

After saying his thanks, he headed back towards Ice Castle Hasetsu. It wasn’t too long a walk and the clear night air felt so refreshing. Hasetsu was beautiful at night. The incandescent glow from streetlamps softly illuminated the sidewalk which was lined with various flowers and shrubbery, all in bloom now that spring was here. Lights from inside buildings cast shadows across the pavement as people moved around and about inside, almost like magical scenes out of a storybook or those old shadow plays. Passing restaurants and bars, he could hear laughter and loud music livening up the night. And if Victor looked upwards he could see the starts in far greater numbers than he ever could in St. Petersburg. Thousands of them twinkled down at him, milky white against a cloudless purple-black sky. Victor wondered for a moment what it would be like to walk along the beach at night like this, basked in gentle moonlight, gazing up at the stars with a lover as the waves crashed quietly in the background. It was difficult to think of anything more romantic.

Victor wondered if Yuuri liked the ocean as much as he did.

Despite his unhurried pace, Victor eventually arrived at the rink. The moment he stepped inside, he knew he was in the right place. Though it was well past closing time, he heard the sound of skates against the ice. Yuuko was at the front desk, looking over various papers. She beamed brightly at him when he entered and gestured for him to follow her to the back. There, he found Makkachin with Takeshi, the man playfully ruffling the dog’s fur. Makkachin wagged his tail happily on seeing Victor, letting out a soft bark of recognition.

“Accompanied Yuuri here, did you?” Victor asked, petting Makkachin’s head as he barked in affirmation. The poodle was normally quite friendly to everyone, but he’d taken especially fast to Yuuri. Victor almost felt like his dog knew something he didn’t.

Victor then turned his attention out the large windows, onto the rink, where Yuuri was currently skating leisurely—a thoughtful yet relaxed look on his face. “He’s always come here to practice by himself,” Takeshi said as they all watched Yuuri skate in long, languid circles around the rink.

“It made me think he really loved skating. He didn’t even play with his friends,” Yuuko sighed, leaning up against the counter with a fond smile on her lips as she looked out onto the rink. Neither she nor Victor could look away, even though Yuuri wasn’t doing anything particularly remarkable. It was more than worth it just to see him so at peace, Victor figured.

“Well, he was never very good at making them,” Takeshi remarked, looking skeptically at his wife. “Skating aside, he’s not good at putting himself out there. I don’t want this to be the end for him.”

“Neither do I. He actually _really_ hates losing,” Yuuko said. Well, no one liked to lose, but Yuuko’s emphasis indicated a hidden competitiveness that Victor hoped he could bring out. The world deserved to see the real Yuuri Katsuki in all his glory. “I hope Victor will bring out a side of Yuuri-kun we’ve never seen before.”

That, therein, lay the ultimate goal. Victor had witnessed a glimpse of that secret, vibrant side of Yuuri that lay just beneath the surface. There had to be a way to have Yuuri naturally tap into that, to bring it to the surface, to utilize it in its entirety and show the world—and himself—what he was truly made of. There was so much strength, so much passion hidden deep inside, and it was just a matter of drawing it out. “So, a magic spell to change the piglet into a prince….”

“Huh?” the Nishigori’s asked in unison.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Victor quickly dismissed. It wouldn’t be fun to ruin the surprise. But Victor knew just what to do now—knew _just_ the right thing. He took his leave with his faithful canine companion bouncing along behind him. “Thank you. I know a lot more about Yuuri now.”

Victor decided against disturbing Yuuri, figuring that sometimes one just needed time to be alone with their thoughts and the ice. Instead, he headed back to the onsen, eager about what the next few days would bring.

 

* * *

 

It was the fateful day where he’d reveal the music of the two choreographies. Victor was excited for it, but it did feel a little bittersweet to soon be handing over his programs to someone else. It wasn’t something he’d ever done before and when he first conjured up the programs, he’d never anticipated doing so. But here they were now, and it was happening. Only the final touches remained and a week from now, they would no longer be completely his. Honestly though, it was the best possible outcome. This way, both programs would be shown to the world with the skill they merited, instead of only one.

“First, let’s have you two listen to the music,” Victor stated, holding the remote to the music player in his hand as the three of them stood on the ice, near the boards. He pressed the play button and the sweet, operatic melody came through the speakers. He went on to explain, “This piece comes in two arrangements, each with a different theme: _In Regards to Love: Eros and Agape_. Have you ever thought about love?”

Unsurprisingly, both Yuuri and Yurio shook their heads. Yuuri had yet to fully understand himself and his feelings, and Yurio… well, he was _fifteen_. “Nope,” the teenager said blankly.

“Alright. Then what do you feel when you listen to this music?” Victor asked.

It was Yuuri who answered, also unsurprisingly. The piece fit his personality—the air of purity and compassion. “It’s very clear and innocent, like someone who doesn’t know what love is yet.” He hit the nail on the head.

“I don’t like this piece,” Yurio was quick to remark with a growl. Of course, someone as fiery and young as Yurio may not yet understand that sort of all-encompassing, unconditional love or the importance of it. He would in time, as long as he had people in his life that showed such love to him. For now though, he had the same attitude as most teenagers did. “This innocence crap makes me want to barf.”

“Okay,” Victor relented, pressing a button on the remote, skipping to the next track. It started off lively and quick-paced, sounding so different from the first track even though the two were tightly related by the same underlying tune.

“It’s like a completely different song,” Yuuri murmured just a few measures in, as though overwhelmed by the inherent sensuality of it. It was that very sensuality that Victor was going for with the piece, however.

“Victor! I want to skate to this one!” Yurio said resolutely. The piece certainly matched Yurio’s unrestrained drive, just as the other piece matched Yuuri’s serenity. But ah, wouldn’t that be boring? Certainly. Neither Yuuri nor Yurio would grow at all if that was the case. They would gain nothing. And besides, Victor had far greater plans in store. (Not to mention he wasn’t sure how appropriate it really way to assign such a suggestive piece to teenager.)

“The first piece is _In Regards to Love: Agape._ The theme is unconditional love. And this piece is _In Regards to Love: Eros._ The theme is sexual love. I’ll have you skate to these opposing themes,” Victor said. Both Yuuri and Yurio nodded in understanding. “This is how I’m assigning them: Yuuri, you’ll skate to _Eros_! And Yurio, you’ll skate to _Agape_!”

The comical backlash was near-instant, at least from Yurio’s side. Yuuri seemed to be at a loss for what to do, while Yurio simply yelled angrily. “Switch them! That piece isn’t me at all!”

“You have to do the opposite of what people expect. How else will you surprise them? That’s my motto.” Victor started. The two of them were in the big leagues now. It wouldn’t do to become complacent. Time for some more tough-love. “Actually, you’re both far more ordinary and mediocre than you think. You need to be more self-aware! I’m surprised you think you can choose your own image. From the audience’s perspective, you’re just a piglet and a kitten. If you aren’t up to my standards by next week, I won’t choreograph either of your programs.”

Their shock was exactly what he’d been going for. “But both of you are my fans, so I’m sure you’ll manage. Right?”

“Fine,” Yurio ground out after a moment. “I’ll skate to _Agape._ My senior debut depends on it! You’d better give me a program that’ll let me win!”

“It’s up to you whether or not you win, but if I were the one skating it, then I’d win for sure,” Victor told him. It was a heinously difficult program, but if skated the way Victor intended, it would be record-breaking as usual. It was created to be that way, after all. Not that _Eros_ was any easier, though.

Yurio scowled, digging in his ice pick and chipping the ice. “If I win, Victor, you’re coming back to Russia. And you’ll be _my_ coach. That’s what I want!”

“Sure,” Victor relented. He knew that’s what Yurio would ask. He didn’t want to leave Hasetsu by any means, but now time would tell. Though, he had the utmost confidence in Yuuri. At the very least, it would be quite the competition. He’d seen the hidden miracles the other boy was capable of and maybe, _just maybe_ , everyone would be in for quite the show one week from now.

“Yuuri, what about you?” Victor asked, as Yuuri stood there, looking down as his skates with a muddled expression. “What would you like to do if you win?”

Yuuri was silent for a few moments longer before he answered quietly. “I want to eat katsudon with you, Victor.”

Time around them seemed to freeze and Victor took in the simple, honest request. Of all the things he’d anticipated, this was not one of them. Even Yurio made a sound of surprise. Victor swallowed, feeling warmth blossoming in his chest as Yuuri continued, more determined as he looked up, “I want to keep winning and keep eating katsudon! So I’ll skate to _Eros_! I’ll give it all the _Eros_ I’ve got!”

A huge smile broke out on Victor’s face and he made no attempt to hide it. “Great! That’s exactly what I like!”

Victor was astonished at how effortlessly Yuuri could cut straight to his heart. The request was so simple but so _Yuuri_ in a way that made Victor want to pick him up and spin him around. It was, somehow, exactly what Victor had been wanting all this time without even realizing it.

_Yuuri, I want to keep eating katsudon with you too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major apologies for the lateness of this chapter. Along with a vacation and an exam in between, I had to rewrite the beginning of this one like 6 times and I’m still not satisfied with it!!! @Victor maybe be nicer to your future fiancé. In any case, I’ll try my hardest to get the next chapter out ASAP. Thank you everyone for being patient! :)
> 
> So I’ve taken many liberties here (and will continue to do so), including adding a few scenes I deemed necessary mostly for flow reasons, and also regarding dialogue. The original CR subtitles are pretty good for the most part but fall flat here and there so I’ve made adjustments—thanks to the hard work of many fans who’ve caught these mistakes. (Feel free to chime in if you know of any as well!) No doubt many readers have already seen said posts, but for those who haven’t, the most intensive one I’ve seen on the matter thus far is [HERE](http://bit.ly/2fC1PQv).
> 
> Also I believe that Victor and Yurio are close enough that Victor might refer to him with affectionate nicknames in his head until he gets his “official” nickname from Mari. And I figured that from a writing and narrative perspective, it was a lot less awkward than having “Two Yuri’s.” The spelling difference isn’t quite enough when you’re reading it in your head….
> 
> An additional resource is the official blueprints of the [Yu-Topia Onsen](http://bit.ly/2kBX5R5)! (I find it endlessly hilarious that Yurio’s room is connected to Victor’s, and the fact that Victor’s room is literally like 3 times bigger than Yuuri’s.)
> 
> Thank you everyone who has left comments, kudos, bookmarks, subs, etc!!! They're my main motivation! :D


	4. Episode Three

First up was the choreography for _Agape._

Unconditional love. Now, that was a tricky concept—something Victor wondered if Yurio would be able to properly tap into. No, he could do it, Victor was certain. Yurio was a prodigy so as far as technical skill was concerned and if he could master the emotional side of skating then it would take all of his performances to the next level. The music played smoothly through the speakers and Victor began the demonstration, knowing that it was a difficult move set, but confident that the teen would grasp it quickly.

Victor tried not to think too much about what _Agape_ was for himself—just tried to tap into the pure emotion instead. That was less complicated, less heavy. And you had to be as light on the ice as possible, he knew all too well. The more you were weighed down, the more it would show in your performance. Your turns would be less smooth, your spins would have less control, your jumps wouldn’t have the same height you wanted them to. Sometimes it was more subtle but regardless, everything would add up and in the end you could self-destruct from the inside out.

Guided by the soft soprano voice, he let his body move through the elements of sequence, allowing himself to be enveloped by the pure feeling of unconditional love. _God’s infinite love is self-sacrificing and uncalculating_ —that’s what he’d said. Each movement had to encapsulate that notion, carried on the somber notes of the organ and lifted high by bells. This type of love was something warm and natural—soft and delicate yet at the same time unbreakable. Agape was the highest form of love, classically linked to man’s relationship with the divine. But apart from that it could be felt in so many ways, if only one allowed oneself to accept it. A parent’s affection, a friend’s support, a lover’s caress. Even abstractly, such imagery would evoke the necessary feelings. With the step sequence at the end, it was easy to lose himself to the crescendo of the dramatic climax, the ending pose synced with the final chime of the bells.

“Kind of like that,” Victor said, coming back to himself quickly and addressing Yurio. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, I pretty much got it,” Yurio said simply. Of course—that was no surprise. The boy was known for picking up things fast and Victor expected no different this time around, regardless of the difficulty of the piece.

After Yuuko briefly introduced herself to Yurio (who, interestingly enough, eyed her with less distaste than he did with most everyone else he met), it was time for… _Eros_ —sexual love.

Now this—this was something vastly different from the charity of agape. This was passionate and selfish desire, and that carnal energy was evident from the very first strum of the guitar. (Yuuko at least seemed to understand this, and Victor counted her reaction it as a half-win; half because it was the reaction he was hoping for… but from the wrong target.)

Within this choreography was a story—embedded between the elegance of the various strings and the steady cadence of the _palmas_ —of something achingly familiar. Eros was all about pleasure followed by pleasure; one just drowns in it. That was key here: allowing oneself to be overcome by desire and letting that fuel every movement, every gesture. Lust and longing almost to the point of mania—that may be difficult for someone of Yuuri’s self-admitted inexperience. But Victor had seen firsthand that Yuuri was capable of such a thing, despite it being buried somewhere deep inside. It was only a matter of drawing it out.

Yuuri seemed to have reservations about the subject, obvious in the stiff way he skated to the center of the rink when Victor called him over and in the way he stumbled over his words when Victor asked what quads he was able to land. The problem here was obvious, though. “Alright, you can practice the basics. I’ll teach Yurio first. I won’t teach you anything you can’t do right now. How many times have you messed up during a competition? You have the skill to win. Why can’t you make it happen?” Victor asked, knowing already what Yuuri would say.

“Well, that’s probably because…,” Yuuri started, his voice gradually growing quieter with each word. He retreated a little into himself, tearing his gaze away from Victor’s as he whispered the answer, “I lack confidence.”

“Right. My job is to make you feel confident in yourself,” Victor said. He knew there was a wellspring of dormant confidence in there—Yuuri just needed to tap into it. He had to be given a _reason_ to tap into it, and Victor could think of nothing more fitting for this short program than using a game of seduction, plain and simple. He slid forward, closing the gap between them and reached out, tilting Yuuri’s chin up to meet his gaze while running his thumb across Yuuri’s plush bottom lip. It was as soft as Victor had always imagined. The man gasped, freezing in place as his eyes grew wide, but didn’t move away, even when they were nose-to-nose. From this proximity Victor could see the long, soft eyelashes and those expressive eyes he hadn’t been able to stop dreaming about for months now. Victor could almost see the hidden _longing_ there—a shadow of what he’d seen at that banquet.

“No one in the whole wide world knows your true eros, Yuuri,” Victor whispered in a low voice with as much charm and temptation he could get away with at the moment. Yuuri’s glasses had slid down a little, and Victor’s extra height allowed him to gaze right into those cinnamon-colored eyes which grew darker as Yuuri’s pupils dilated. A deep blush quickly spread across his cheeks and his warm breath tickled Victor’s thumb enticingly. “It may be an alluring side of you that you yourself are unaware of. Can you show me what it is soon?”

They stayed like that for just a second longer—close enough to _kiss_ , Victor thought—until the spell was broken by Yurio shouting across the rink at them in an typically annoyed tone. “Hey, Victor! Aren’t you teaching me first?!”

“Right,” Victor called back to him, reluctantly disengaging from the scene but adding, “Yuuri, think long and hard about what eros is to you.”

Victor spared a thought—only a single one—as to what might’ve happened had he and Yuuri been alone, and it conjured forth that wistful yearning yet again.

 

* * *

 

It was near sunset already, though it felt like they’d just started.

“Stop, stop,” Victor called out, meeting Yurio near center ice. “Hmm, something isn’t right here.” The orange sunlight filtered in through the large vertical windows, but the fluorescent lights above hadn’t switched on yet, making the rink feel smaller than it was somehow.

“I’m doing it like you showed me, aren’t I?” Yurio asked between his huffs, with a tinge of frustration. As it was just the two of them for the time being, the teen had reverted back to Russian.

Victor let out another contemplative hum. Following the choreography properly was only half of the work. It wasn’t enough to leave an impression on the audience or be record-breaking. “The way you currently are, your greed is too obvious. There’s no sense of agape—unconditional love—in your performance. It’s good to have confidence, but this program isn’t where you should show it off.”

“Huh?” Yurio cried out with clear indignation. “You’re the one who’s skated with complete confidence this whole time! Well, what’s agape to you then, Victor?”

“It’s a feeling, of course,” Victor said easily, “so I could never explain it in words.” Yurio kept staring blankly at him so he continued. “Do you bother thinking about that when you skate? You’re funny, Yurio.”

Victor figured a temple might help Yurio find his agape and with a little persuasion, convinced the teen to actually go to one nearby. Hours later, everyone had reconvened at the onsen and Yurio looked less than pleased. Actually Victor was pretty sure Yurio was glaring daggers at him whenever he thought Victor wasn’t looking. If looks could kill….

Well, if it helped him find his agape, then that’s all that mattered!

Though as hard a time as Yurio seemed to be having finding his agape, Yuuri seemed to be having a similarly difficult time embracing his eros. It was a little puzzling, considering how Yuuri had been _quite_ the embodiment of eros back on that stripper pole during the banquet, and then when he’d taken the lead during their impromptu dance afterwards. After all, that’s what the entire short program was based on.

Okay, alright. Perhaps Yuuri really didn’t want to dredge up those old memories—they were probably tinged with disappointment or altogether hazy. Victor could understand that. He himself had some selectively repressed memories of wild drunken escapades with Chris which both of them agreed to never speak of again. Some things were better left in the past, and maybe it was for the better that Yuuri find his _true_ eros on his own—though if Victor was being honest with himself, he would have been quite happy to help…. But anyway, he was excited to see what Yuuri would come up with.

Or at least, that’s what he thought.

During dinner is when it happened—Yuuri suddenly slamming his hand down on the table and loudly proclaiming: “I get it now!” Victor looked over the edge of his own bowl in surprise, swallowing hard in anticipation. Was this it? Was this the moment where Yuuri would admit what Victor hoped to be true all along? Would he boldly proclaim that _Victor_ was the inspiration for his eros?! Or something similarly passionate?! Maybe it would be the dance they shared after all, filled with heated gazes, deliberate touches, and soft laughter—

“Katsudon! That’s what eros is to me!”

...

 _Keep it together, Nikiforov, don’t react—don’t cry_ , a rational part of his brain kept repeating. But honestly Victor was so taken aback that he really didn’t know how to react all. It was… certainly surprising, to say the least. Leave it to Yuuri to come up with something completely out of left field.

“Ah—sorry… it’s not…” Yuuri quickly amended when neither Victor nor Yurio said anything. (Yurio looked to be in shock too from what Victor could tell, until a smirk crossed his face.) Yuuri was quickly backtracking—flustered and embarrassed as he rose from the table—and that’s the last thing Victor wanted. Whatever worked for Yuuri, whatever he could tap into, _that’s_ what they would use.

“Okay, let’s go with that,” Victor suggested hurriedly. If anything, they could use it as a building block. Let Yuuri get comfortable with something innocent and familiar first and then encourage him to look beyond that— _support, support, support_. That’s what was needed the most right now. “It’s nice and unique.”

“Seriously?” Yurio muttered, sneering and on the verge of laughter while Yuuri looked like he was about to burst into tears from sheer mortification. Quickly excusing himself, Yuuri suddenly took off—Makkachin bounding behind him—leaving Victor alone with Yurio as they heard the front door slide open and then slam shut.

“Don’t say anything,” Victor warned, setting his bowl down on the table and looking at the Yuuri-shaped empty space in front of him. He was still trying to fully process what just happened, his mind swimming with a mixture of amusement and selfish disappointment.

“Oh my god” Yurio said anyway, laughing unabashedly at Victor’s expense. Victor had no retort—he could only frown and wonder where he’d clearly gone horribly wrong. Or was sweet Yuuri really just _that dense_? “This is the best.”

“Yurio….”

“You chased tail across the globe only to find that your drunken Cinderella likes _pork cutlet bowls_ more than he likes you.” Yurio sounded far too pleased with himself and Victor felt his frown deepen. But here it came—the criticism Victor had foreseen ever since Yurio arrived in Japan. It was a miracle it hadn’t happened sooner. “I mean they are pretty good but—ha! The great Victor Nikiforov tossed aside for food. This is amazing.”

“I didn’t expect this,” Victor tried weakly. He wouldn’t hear the end of this anytime soon.

“What _did_ you expect? For him to fall into your arms so you two could ride off into the sunset?”

“Of course not.” Victor shot Yurio a look but the teen just shrugged and shook his head. Whatever Victor had expected it hadn’t been this. Still, he had to admit that it was kind of cute. It was very _Yuuri_ in a way. Victor found himself chuckling, and this time it was Yurio’s turn to shoot him a look.

“What are you laughing about?”

“He’s adorable.” Victor couldn’t keep the affection out of his voice even if he tried. Yurio only made a sound of disgust before shoveling some food into his mouth. “It’ll be interesting to see how he uses katsudon to unlock his eros.”

“Yeah right,” Yurio muttered around a mouthful. “I hope you haven’t unpacked everything yet. I’m going to win this showdown easily at this rate and then we’re going back to Russia.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate your fellow skaters, Yurio,” Victor chided. “You never know—they could end up surprising you.”

 

* * *

 

The rest of the week passed by relatively quickly as both Yuuri and Yurio began their training in earnest. With each day they mastered more and more of their respective routines, though it became evident where each of their strengths lay. Yurio was far more consistent in landing his jumps while Yuuri mastered his step sequence and spins with ease. It wasn’t new information, but it made sense when you considered their personalities.

Both of them seemed to be spurred on by each other and Victor was glad for it. Moreover, Yurio wasn’t needlessly vitriolic and Yuuri was always ready to side-step any confrontation anyway. Sometimes Victor would witness what he’d consider to be evidence of a nascent friendship between the two—usually things like Yuuri laughing at some joke Yurio made as the two of them sat on the steps outside the rink after a long day. Or Yurio insisting that heavy metal and punk rock were the only genres worth listening to and passing along selected songs for Yuuri to educate himself with. Or Yuuri patiently teaching Yurio the proper way to hold and use chopsticks, the two of them getting excited when Yurio was able to pick up a single noodle.      

And of course Victor couldn’t help but smile when he came into the rink late the morning before the big day and saw the two of them working together on Yuuri’s Salchow.

(If anyone asked why he’d decided to drink until dawn it was simply because he wanted to enjoy life and had _nothing_ to do with trying to use warm sake to drown out the feelings of cold rejection he was fighting off. Nothing at all. He was a fully functional adult and he was _fine_.)

Somewhere along the way—between the temples and the waterfall—Yurio seemed to have found his agape, or at least the first stage of it. It was evident now in his movements, that notion of unconditional love showing through. It wasn’t going to be an easy competition for Yuuri, but Victor had faith that the wallflower would blossom into something spectacular. Yuuri had surprised him at every turn thus far, so it went without saying that whatever the man came up with would be sure to amaze the entire audience.

 

* * *

 

Victor, having the gracious foresight to do so, had all his old costumes flown over for the competition. A week’s time was too little to commission a new outfit for both Yuuri and Yurio, but he figured since all his old stuff was just lying around uselessly anyway, it would be a good opportunity to recycle.

So there they were, the three of them sitting in Victor’s room with suitcases propped open and all his old costumes on display. Yuuri seemed to be enjoying it a great deal more than Yurio—who looked at everything with a general sense of distaste. He warned Yuuri not to pick anything flashier than him, but that was a null argument given that Victor always made sure all of his outfits were equally eye-catching regardless of design. No matter—the two of them both settled on something soon enough.

“This is from the Junior World Championship!” Yuuri exclaimed, picking up a black one-piece that Victor remembered fondly. It had been over ten years since he’d worn the thing, and with it he’d smashed the previous world record for juniors as way of his swan song before his senior debut the following year.

“Yeah, I had long hair at the time so my costume suggested both male and female genders at once,” Victor explained. He had especially fond memories of that outfit, remembering the exciting routine that had gone with it along with just the aesthetic of it all.

Something seemed to click for Yuuri, then. He looked at the costume with wide eyes and a wider smile. “I choose this one!” It was interesting choice to say the least and Victor wanted to ask why that one in particular—but he let it slide for now. (And of course, Victor didn't bother to mention that the costume had been designed after lingerie and bondage. He was afraid it would put Yuuri off, and quite selfishly Victor _really_ wanted to see him in that thing….)

Yurio was not one to be left behind and had chosen his own one-piece—a white, glitzy costume that was almost a direct opposite to Yuuri’s. Victor had worn it when he was even younger than the black one, and it had been just as famous. Yurio clambered over the various suitcases and past Victor to his makeshift room to try it on. Yuuri quickly excused himself to do the same in his bedroom and Victor used the time to stuff any remaining costumes back into the suitcases and out of the way.

As he thought, it felt a little strange to know that costumes that once belonged to him would no longer be solely his. First the choreography, and now this. Victor never thought of himself as being someone who got attached to things like that, but here he was with this odd feeling. He wasn’t unhappy though, no, not at all. Those outfits would do no good to anyone being stored away somewhere, and would be much better worn and shown off as they were created to be. Ah, when had he become so sentimental? Maybe he was getting old after all.

A few hours later—once all the luggage was out of the way again—Yurio and Yuuri officially retired for the night. Tomorrow was a big day. Victor stayed up a little later, paging through an old paperback as Makkachin lay asleep next to him on the bed. He’d been trying to read the same paragraph for several minutes now and made no progress. If he was completely honest with himself, he’d admit that he was a little worried. He didn’t want to leave Hasetsu—he didn’t want to leave _Yuuri_ —and yet he was unsure if Yuuri had found what it was he needed in order to truly compete with Yurio. At this rate, it seemed like the little Ice Tiger was going to shred his way to success, right through whatever little progress Victor and Yuuri had made. But fair was fair and—

Victor heard Yuuri’s door open and close before he heard the soft footfalls crossing their shared hallway.

Where was Yuuri going at this time of night? Victor had half a mind to follow until he realized that Yuuri was probably going where he usually went when he needed to clear his mind: the ice rink or Minako’s place. Given the circumstances, it was very likely it was the latter this time around.

Victor smiled to himself, setting aside his book. Looked like Yuuri wasn’t going down without a fight after all, and Victor was excited to see what he’d come up with as his secret weapon.

 

* * *

 

The day of the Onsen on Ice competition had arrived and Victor found himself still feeling oddly nervous, though less so than last night. It was unusual of him to feel this way and stranger still when you considered the fact that Victor rarely if ever got nervous before his own performances. So it was unusual to be worried on someone else’s behalf.

Breakfast had been normal with the exception of Yuuri being missing from the table. Mari informed him that Yuuri had gotten back late from wherever he’d gone the night before and no one had the heart to wake him up yet. “If he’s sleeping at all before a competition it’s a miracle,” Mari had sighed as she left Yurio and Victor alone. They didn’t see him until well-after lunch, and even then he seemed to be deep in thought. Victor was hesitant to say anything and anyways Yuuri soon vanished to go off for a run, not returning until much later. According to his family, that was just a normal thing for him.

The day passed quickly as everyone was rushing about to set up for the competition. From what he heard, the ice rink was in mild chaos as they worked on the sound system and set up the cameras, never mind the growing crowd outside. Ice Castle Hasetsu wasn’t built to house anything more than small exhibitions and this event had swiftly grown into something larger than they were naturally equipped to handle. People flocked from all over Japan and it wasn’t a surprise that many of Yurio’s more enthusiastic fans had flown down as well. Word had it that his mother was supposed to fly down too, but due to a scheduling issue wasn’t able to make it on time.

“How do you feel?” Victor asked him, a few hours before the event was supposed to start. Yurio was looking over his costume, inspecting some of the jewels. He’d just showered after getting back from his own run.

“Fine. Why wouldn’t I be? I’ll win this thing so we can go back to Russia already,” he huffed out, with a shrug. He didn’t even look the least bit worried as he muttered something about missing his cat.

“Careful about being overconfident,” Victor told him lightly.

“Whatever—I just hope your bags are packed,” Yurio said. In truth, Victor hadn’t packed anything back up (apart from all those costumes). He wondered if it wasn’t just possible to teach both of them here, in Hasetsu, if Yurio was so hell-bent on having him as a coach. But he wondered if Yurio actually even wanted that.

Victor left him to it and went out in search of Yuuri, who he found alone in his room. He was sitting in front of his desk, an open tub of pomade in front of him along with a little red comb and a small mirror. His glasses were safely folded off to the side.

“Yuuri? May I come in?” Victor asked after a knock to the door.

“Of course,” Yuuri answered as Victor stepped inside and closed the door behind him. It was the first time he was in here—and it almost felt like entering a forbidden, sacred place—but he couldn’t just stand there and look at everything. Though he did allow himself a cursory glance around, secure in the fact that Yuuri hadn’t told him to go away. It was a simple but cozy space—a bed to one side, a desk to the other. The windows above the bed were closed off by thick curtains. The far side of the room had a closet similar to the one in Victor’s room, though smaller, and a recessed shelf near the foot of the bed where a few trophies and medals were displayed. In the corner Victor spied various knickknacks such as a keyboard propped up against the wall and even a little piggybank—endearing evidence of Yuuri growing up here. The walls were curiously bare but there was a healthy-looking cactus on the desk. The room was lit only by a small desk lamp now that dusk had set in outside, and it made the place feel very private. “I was just going to style my hair back, like I usually do,”  

“Would you like some help?” Victor offered. He saw the hesitance written all over Yuuri’s face, but then his expression softened into a shy smile. Whatever had just changed for him, Victor was glad for it.

“Yes, please.” Victor couldn’t keep his own smile off his face as he stepped forward, coming to stand behind Yuuri. He’d seen the pictures and videos of Yuuri in his previous costumes and in all of them he had his hair tastefully slicked back for a neat, sophisticated look.

“Your hair is so soft,” Victor remarked, boldly reaching forward and running a hand gently through Yuuri’s feathery locks (and sensing the way Yuuri stiffened momentarily at the contact before relaxing again). They were slightly damp, indicating that Yuuri had just showered as well.

“Ah, thank you,” Yuuri said, sounding rather casual about it instead of being timid like he often was in these types of situations. Victor knew, abstractly, that this was a fairly intimate thing in Japanese culture and it was a sign of one of Yuuri’s walls finally coming down. He hoped it wouldn’t all be in vain after tonight.

Victor leaned over him, reaching into the pomade and scooping out a small dollop of it and spreading it evenly over his hands. Then he gently carded his fingers through Yuuri’s hair—still marveling at both its luxuriousness and the privilege of being able to do this at all—continuing the movements maybe a little longer than necessary before reaching for the comb. Carefully, he combed back the thick locks into a neat arrangement, taking his time and enjoying the way Yuuri seemed to relax further under Victor’s gentle attention.

Just as Victor was finishing up, Yuuri let out a contented hum and Victor felt a sudden surge of fondness. He’d give anything to capture this moment and all the feelings that came with it—this new, fragile thing that had suddenly bloomed between them. But unfortunately, the moment had to end sometime. And so, Victor reluctantly took a step back, signifying that he was done. “There you go.”

“Thank you—again. I guess I’ll finish getting ready. It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Victor confirmed. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“Alright,” Yuuri said, getting up from his spot and turning to face him. Victor had to admit that he looked so different with his hair styled back like that—almost like another person entirely, handsome and refined.

Victor gave an awkward nod before retreating back to his own room next door. He stood there for a moment, noting that Yurio’s door was ajar, meaning that the he’d probably already gotten ready and gone downstairs. Makkachin was lounging lazily on the green couch nearby and with nothing else to do, Victor made a move to go pet the poodle until he suddenly remembered a curious thing about the black outfit Yuuri had chosen—and honestly, might as well start calling it the _Eros_ outfit from now on. If he remembered correctly… it had an odd zip. Not that it would catch or get stuck, but rather that it wasn’t in a neat, straight line. No, instead it started at the left hip and curved along the back to the nape of the neck. It was designed that way for structural purposes, since nearly half the top portion of the costume was made of delicate mesh in place of cloth, and further accented by crystals. But anyway, the point stood: Yuuri might need assistance zipping the costume up.

Victor was never one to let opportunity pass him by.

Turning on his heel and padding quietly back into the hallway, he saw that Yuuri’s door was slightly ajar. He knocked before pushing the door open again. Yuuri stood next to his desk in front of a full-length mirror, examining himself. He’d already changed into the Eros costume, though it hung open in the back as Victor predicted. He looked over at Victor bashfully. “Ah! I’m glad you didn’t leave yet. I can’t quite zip this up. I tried it on yesterday too, but I didn’t bother with the zipper, then….”

“I forgot all about that thing until just now! It’s a little tricky,” Victor confirmed, entering the room again and letting the door fall shut. “Let me help you.”

Victor crossed the distance between them in just a few steps, coming to stand behind Yuuri who had yet to move from his spot in front of the mirror. Blush high on his cheeks, Yuuri looked up at him through the reflection expectantly.

And just like that, the air around them seemed to change, as though a switch had been flipped. Suddenly, everything felt more _intimate_.

Victor felt his mouth go a little dry when he dropped his gaze onto Yuuri’s back—a slice of pale, bare skin exposed right before him. He reached for the zipper and slowly dragged it upwards, not missing the hitch in Yuuri’s breath when he let his knuckles drag along the soft skin, or the way the Yuuri let his eyes fall close. Victor was certainly crowding into the boy’s space by the time he fastened the hook at the nape of Yuuri’s neck (who shuddered almost imperceptibly at this), but Yuuri made no move to get away. He just slowly opened his eyes and looked at Victor through the reflection—their gazes holding steady. He’d had his arms folded in front of him in a shy gesture, but now he let them drop to his sides.

“How do I look?” It came almost as a whisper and if Victor wasn’t so close, it might’ve been lost altogether. Victor tore his eyes from Yuuri’s gaze to appraise the rest of him, and had to try very hard not to swallow audibly. The outfit fit wonderfully, like it was made for him. The black material hugging Yuuri’s tone thighs and perfect ass in exactly the right way. It wrapped comfortably around his narrow shoulders and hips—and _god_ what a tiny waist. It was difficult to think that just a few weeks prior Yuuri had been chubby at all, when now he was the same size as Victor had been over a decade ago. The crystals on the outfit glistened even in the dim lighting and through the gossamer mesh Victor could see the skin of Yuuri’s torso on display, tantalizing.

Simply put, Yuuri looked phenomenal.

He looked like a dream out of one of Victor’s most indulgent fantasies—like the ones he’d had shortly after the banquet. Victor didn’t quite know where to look; all of him was so _beautiful_. So he settled for meeting his eyes again and lord—they were so dark and endless, like they held all the secrets to every mystery in the universe. Yuuri could have asked anything of him then, in that moment, and Victor would have granted it without a second thought.

“You look gorgeous,” Victor answered after eventually finding his voice. It came out huskier than he’d intended, but at least it was honest. He stepped back, affording Yuuri the appropriate amount of personal space again. “A true vision of eros.”

Yuuri’s blush deepened and his eyes went wide, as though he hadn’t expecting such compliments. “O-oh. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Victor winked, enjoying the way Yuuri bit his lip, ducking his head just a little.

“I’ll see you downstairs, then,” Yuuri said finally, and Victor took it as his cue to leave, still marveling at how that costume fit Yuuri like a second skin. Victor was sure it had never looked that good on himself, but on Yuuri it was stunning.

 

* * *

 

A little while later, and the occasion was upon them—the Hasetsu Exhibition: Onsen on Ice had well and truly begun.

(The locals had asked Victor to promote a little tourism for the town and Victor was happy to oblige—though his students seemed far less enthusiastic about it….)

The waiting room had been a bit tense; none of them talked after Victor gave a quick good luck speech. But then it was time for the show to start! Yurio was up first, as announced by Yuuko, who seemed quite appreciative of his costume. It certainly looked good on him, capturing the essence of agape with angelic overtones.

All of them went out of the waiting room to see the large crowd that had gathered there and Yurio took his skate guards off as the announcer gave a brief intro. It was a full house—with every single seat in the rink filled, and more people standing around the boards. Banners cheering on chosen competitors waved from the crowd as people shouted out _“davai!”_ when Yurio took to the ice.

“He will be skating to _In Regards to Love: Agape_ ,” Morooka informed the crowd as Yurio assumed his starting pose. There was something about it that Victor could sense immediately—an intensity that wasn’t there during practice. The music started as it always did: clement and almost haunting, and Yurio moved with it perfectly.

The first jump was a triple Axel—and he nailed it expertly, garnering applause from the crowd. It moved into a sit spin with excellent speed and control. Everyone was enraptured by the performance already, even before it entered its second half. Yurio executed the quad Salchow and triple toe loop combination with a flourish, and then landed his final quad—a quad toe loop—with just as much precision. It was wonderful until then—the agape he uncovered had been shining through, powering his performance with the grace the piece demanded. But somewhere along the way, it seemed, Yurio had lost sight of his agape. Somewhere in the middle of the step sequence, it changed—and Victor could see it; could see the frustration on Yurio’s face as he finished out the step sequence and it began to show clearly in his movements as he entered into his signature combination spin.

Even so, Yurio ended his program with a beautiful ending pose and a courteous smile on his face for the crowd when Victor called out to him afterwards. “Yurio! That was the best performance I’ve seen from you so far! Go on, greet the audience!”

Morooka was right when he exclaimed that Yurio had enthralled the audience—even Yuuri was clapping along. The cheers were loud and enthusiastic from every corner of the rink. If Yuuri was going to beat him, then it wasn’t going to be easy by any means. This would prove to be a tough competition.

However, Yuuri seemed to be acutely aware of that fact.

As Victor went to him, he seemed to be lost in his own thoughts again. In an attempt to bring him back, Victor called out to him softly, “Yuuri. It’s your turn.” It seemed to catch Yuuri off guard and he let out a surprised squeak as he regained his awareness of his surroundings.

“U-Um, I’m…” he started, uncertain for a moment before a determined look crossed his face. “I’m going to become a super tasty katsudon, so please keep your eyes _only_ on me! Promise!” he demanded before suddenly throwing his arms around Victor’s shoulders and pressing close for a hug. This time it was Victor who was caught off-guard. He hadn’t expected the sudden contact whatsoever, and even less Yuuri’s bold request.

“Of course,” Victor said, still trying to figure out where this sudden change had come from. And because he couldn’t say _I love you_ , he settled for the closest thing he knew Yuuri might understand: “I love katsudon.”

Morooka began his introduction for Yuuri and the skater stepped back before Victor could return the hug in earnest, but shared one last gaze before taking to the ice.

“He will be skating to _In Regard to Love: Eros_ ,” Morooka announced. “He’s been having difficulty expressing ‘eros,’ but said he’ll think of how he would love to eat his favorite dish, katsudon.”

But Victor could see even before the music began that Yuuri’s eros had shifted targets already. It was evident in the way he jut out his hip to the side, the way his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks. And as the first notes started, Victor’s suspicions were confirmed. _It’s not katsudon you’re thinking about_ , _Yuuri_ , he thought to himself as Yuuri threw him—directly—a searing-hot smirk, filled with all the brazenness Victor had seen months and months ago. He couldn’t help but whistle back appreciatively; it had been downright sexy in a way he couldn’t have imagined until now.

Unlike Yurio’s performance, Yuuri’s had the step sequence first. And as Morooka remarked, it was _quite_ seductive. Each of Yuuri’s movements was filled with an indescribable, incandescent passion. Each gesture felt overwhelmingly decadent; every flick of the wrist or curling of his fingers felt like an enchantress bewitching the audience with pure charm. And that’s what Yuuri’s secret was—wasn’t it? He carried himself differently than Victor had seen at practice. There was a subtle, feminine elegance to his movements now, more so than ever before. Victor had intended a story with this particular choreography—a playboy captivating the most beautiful woman in town, based on their night together—but instead of reprising his role as the playboy, Yuuri had flipped the whole program on its head. Now _he_ was the beautiful woman and yet… he was still the one doing the seducing.

Yuuri finished his step sequence and moved onto his camel spin—and _wow_ was it simply entrancing. And then the program moved into its second half with his first jump scheduled—a triple Axel following a spread eagle. Victor had switched around the original choreography a little, accounting for Yuuri’s extra stamina, and it seemed like it paid off. Yuuri nailed the jump and showed no signs of slowing down.

Ah—but there! Victor saw it a split second before it happened; the wrong entry speed for his quadruple Salchow caused Yuuri to step out of it, salvaging it by putting a hand down on the landing to stay up. But even with that mistake, Yuuri kept going, even seeming to redouble his efforts at charming the audience—and it worked. Within moments they’d forgotten the mistake and after he landed the quad-triple toe-loop combo, it was banished from their memory altogether. The final combination spin lead flawlessly into the ending pose, his arms wrapped around himself, and just like that, it was over already.

If the cheers from Yurio’s performance had been loud, now they were outright deafening.

It was clear who the winner was.

“Yuuri!” Victor called out from the edge of the ice, at the entrance, wrapping the skater in a hug the moment he was close enough. “That was the tastiest katsudon I’ve ever seen! Wonderful!”

Of course, he also took the moment to critique that _sloppy_ spread eagle into the triple Axel—the worst attempt so far, even if he’d landed it well! And the Salchow—how could he flub it even when he had Yurio teach him in secret and—oh! The sudden critiqued proved to be a little too much for Yuuri all at once, but no matter, Victor could shelf it for later.

They briefly looked for Yurio, who had suddenly up and vanished, only to be told by Takeshi that he’d left already, assuming the winner own his own. Yuuko had kindly taken him to the airport, but Victor was shocked that he’d leave without so much as a goodbye (though apparently he _did_ have some fighting words for Yuuri). It must not have been easy to be bested by someone you thought you would surely win against—but that was just how competition worked. You never knew exactly what everyone had up their sleeves, but isn’t that what made figure skating so interesting? Maybe it was for the best Yurio return to Yakov, who Victor trusted more than himself. After all, Yakov’s sternness might have been the key to Victor’s success, so maybe that’s what Yurio needed too—structure and discipline, especially since he was young. Still, it would have been nice if they’d at least all shared a meal together before the teen took off.

Though now it meant Victor could devote his time to Yuuri.

The two of them stood atop the podium a few minutes later, all cameras focused on Yuuri as he clutched a bouquet tightly to his chest when Morooka asked for a word. Yuuri seemed to be at a loss for what to say at first, until Victor wrapped his arm around his shoulders and squeezed tightly in a show of solidarity. Yuuri would no longer have to feel like he was fighting alone, not as long as Victor was there for him. Victor wanted to convey that sentiment through his touch, and Yuuri seemed to understand, given how he relaxed almost immediately at the contact.

“I’m going to try and win the next Grand Prix Final with Victor,” Yuuri said, his voice steady. “Thank you for your continued support!”

 

 

And when all was said and done—the crowd filtering out of the rink, the cameramen packing up their equipment—Yuuri escaped into the changing room, as Victor followed.

“I can’t believe it….” Yuuri exclaimed breathlessly. There was still a flush on his cheeks and Victor couldn’t tell if it was from the skating or not. “I actually won?”

“You deserved it,” Victor told him, gesturing for him to turn around so he could help with that pesky zipper again. Yuuri complied with a little hum. Victor stepped close—maybe closer than strictly necessary—and slowly inched the zipper down. “You were incredible out there.”

“… Except for the Axel and the Salchow, you mean.” Victor laughed at the tone in Yuuri’s voice, any attempt at intimacy ruined but replaced by a comfortable camaraderie.

“The Axel could use refinement and the Salchow—well, we’ll work on that,” Victor told him, taking a step back after he finished with the zipper. Yuuri turned around with a smile on his lips and nodded. He looked more comfortable than Victor had ever seen him before.

“Alright.” It was like yet another of his walls being taken down, right before Victor’s eyes. “But for now, let me get changed and we can go have some katsudon!”

“You’ve been waiting for this all week, haven’t you?” Victor asked, glimpsing for a split second at the exposed shoulder where the costume slid down a little.

“Yep!” He could have sworn that Yuuri’s eyes were _twinkling_ in that moment, and Victor had never seen him look more beautiful—even if he was disheveled and sweaty from his performance.

“Good—so have I!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuse as to why this chapter is like two months late. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Forgive me and thank you so much for sticking with me!  
> [Me:] I’m gonna get the next chapter out quickly!  
> [Also Me:] *takes on like 10000 extra commitments in the meantime* Whoops.
> 
> To be honest, I think a big part of why this one’s so late has to do with how unhappy I was/am with the previous chapter—though I can’t pinpoint the exact reason. I’m a lot more pleased with this chapter though, so that’s probably a relief for everyone, haha!
> 
> I took a lot of liberties in this one again—I hope people don’t mind all those extra scenes I’ve shoved in there. They just make everything feel more… _right_ to me…. (Also it means we get extra thirsty!Victor.)
> 
> A million, billion thanks to everyone who’s read this so far, commented, left kudos, subscribed, bookmarked, etc! Hope you stayed tuned! Please come and chat with me on [Tumblr](https://nyerus.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/nyerus10)!!! I'm always ready to scream over YoI.


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